


That Other Guy

by miss_bugaboo (margaret_helstone)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Did I mention angst, F/M, Fights, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, So much angst, but there's a happy ending to make up for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaret_helstone/pseuds/miss_bugaboo
Summary: "Why does it matter so much to you? What's so terrible about Adrien Agreste that you can't stand him as your competition – even though it changes absolutely nothing for you? What in magic's name makes him such a hateful rival?"Or, Chat Noir finally learns who Ladybug's dream guy is, but somehow, he's not pleased at all. For more reasons than one. LadyNoir, Adrienette.





	1. An Equal Share of Luck

“Wait so are you telling me that the guy you’ve been talking about, the one that has been my oh-so-lucky rival for _the past two and a half years, the_ one that has so successfully blocked _each and every one_ of my tries to get close to you…

That this guy is _Adrien – FREAKING – Agreste_?!”

Ladybug froze in her spot. She was taken aback by the remark, certainly, but the aggression ringing in her partner's voice was even more startling. She turned around slowly, expecting to see a predictably petulant expression on his face – the irritated glare of a child who was once again refused the toy he believed he had a full right to. She _knew_ there was more to it, of course; knew that behind that mask of sulkiness was the real pain of unrequited affection, even if it was so heavily coated by the petty jealousy that was also undoubtedly there.

It turned out that even that knowledge had not been enough. It had failed to prepare her for the new, solemn look of true hurt and ire she saw now. It was suddenly clear that he was no longer jealous, not only so, anyway – and she almost winced when she realised that right now, Cat Noir was judging her most severely, and the outcome clearly wasn’t in her favour.

The glare he was giving her was of disappointment before anything else; she supposed it would have been piteous, too, had he not been so very angry with her.

And by the look of it, he was _furious_.

“I can’t believe it,” she heard him mutter as he rubbed a gloved hand against his face. “Of all people for you to pick, it had to be _him_.”

“And why does it matter so much to you, Chat?” Ladybug responded eventually, feeling the anger rise in her own chest but still trying to keep her cool, for both of their sakes. “What’s so terrible about Adrien Agreste that you can’t stand him as your competition – even though it changes absolutely _nothing_ for you? What in magic’s name makes _him_ such a hateful rival? You knew there was someone else, I told you that as soon as I realised how serious you were about your feelings... Because believe it or not, the last thing I’ve ever wanted is to hurt you. And yet here you are, making a scene just because you don’t like the guys actual name!”

“There is much more to dislike about him than his name, trust me,” Chat drawled in response; a new derisive note resounded in his voice. “What I really hate about this entire situation though is the fact that you would reject me, again and again, for someone you don’t even _know_. Call me crazy, call me weak, but learning about that hurts more than any cataclysm I could possibly put on myself.”

Their eyes met again, Chat’s cold gaze once again rendering her speechless. She didn’t know how to answer him; she doubted there was anything she could say that would not rile him up even further – something she was not at all willing to witness – but at the same time, she didn’t want to argue with him. Or to add to the pain he was undeniably feeling.

Still, there was little she _could_ do if he insisted on discussing the subject in such an aggressive manner, which, again, would not change as long as she did nothing.

“And what if I do know him?” she asked weakly at last, praying inwardly that the suggestion would not add insult to injury. She felt the first tears gather in the back of her eyes, but she ignored them, determined to keep her emotions at bay until this horrible conversation was fully over.

To be fair, she wasn’t even sure when it all began in the first place. They’d been patrolling the city as they always did on Wednesdays, aware that, for some reason, this was when the late night akuma possessions usually happened. They’d been jumping from one building to the other; her, talking about her own mid-week exhaustion, while he’d tried to cheer her up with his terrible puns and absolutely ridiculous attempts at flirting.

All in all, a typical behaviour on a most typical patrol.

It was then that they’d come across another huge poster of _Gabriel’s_ new teen-oriented collection, featuring none other than the main designer’s young son – which really was just another unsurprising occurrence. The city of Paris was once again covered with Adrien’s photographs, much as it had been nearly two years prior. Though, fortunately for all, the new advertisement didn’t cause half as much excitement as the aforementioned cologne ad, something for which Ladybug was almost as grateful as the modelling teenager himself.

Ladybug had her reasons to be proud, having resisted the temptation to ogle the posters at any given opportunity, reducing her obsession to several replays of the TV version of the ad alongside a few discreet glances at billboards that adorned the streets.

Of course, she just _had_ to give one of those glances now; and of course, Cat Noir noticed it at once.

It didn’t seem particularly dangerous at first. Sure, she knew he would tease her, but then again, he always did whenever another boy was concerned. It didn’t matter who the said boy was or how much of a threat he really was – he taunted her about Luka in the same way he joked about Nino and Max, unaware that she knew all three of them and that not all of the gentlemen were completely indifferent towards her.

There was no reason why his remarks about Adrien should lead to anything more serious than that.

The heroine was proven wrong quickly enough, however. As one word led to another, his comments changed from humorous to earnest, and soon he was asking her questions she had no means of answering. She had no idea why he was so adamant this time, why her thoughts on Adrien suddenly seemed to mean so much more than her opinions about the boys that had been the topic of their talks in the past.

All she knew was that, somehow, he had managed to put two and two together and figure out the secret she’d been so determined to keep.

And as stated before, the discovery clearly made him go nuts.

"Chat? What if I actually know him?" she repeated hesitantly when she'd realised he was not willing to grace her with his answer without another prompt on her part. She saw him bite his lip nervously, before he bowed his head and shook it and let out a strange hollow laugh that was so very unlike him.

"Forgive me for being so blunt, but the last time I checked, Adrien Agreste did not have too many friends to brag about," he responded eventually. "A few, perhaps; but certainly not enough of them not miss _you_ out in that crowd... And since I know he's got more than a soft spot for you, he sure as hell would have reached out for you and made that dream relationship of yours a reality before you could blink your pretty lashes at him twice. Even being the fool he is, he sure wouldn't have missed a chance like that."

"Stop calling him that," Ladybug warned him, only to realise that the unexpected cracking in her voice made it sound more like a plea than anything else. "Even if you have some scraps of information like that, which I'm certain is just some groundless gossip, you clearly don't know _him._ And you don't know _me_ either if you think I'd lie to you about any of this. _Why_ would I lie?"

"To save face, perhaps? So that you don't have to admit that your grand true love is really nothing but a shallow celebrity crush, aimed at a boy you could not have met save for the few times when he was stupid enough to get himself caught by some akuma or other. But it's too late for that; too late to fool me, to stop me from realising that all my efforts mean nothing compared to a pretty face and a wealthy background. Maybe it's better that I finally know it now."

"You don't know anything," she objected heatedly, no longer caring about the mist that covered her eyes and indifferent to how she must look to him right now. "You don't know _me_. You think Adrien would have to recognise me in my civilian form but that's just it: I'm _not_ Ladybug in my real life. I've been telling you that for as long as I can remember, and it was only your stubbornness that kept you from understanding it. I'm _nothing_ like the girl you know; I'm clumsy and insecure, so much that I can't even muster up the courage to talk to the guy I like without stumbling over my words, much less speak of any of my feelings to him."

She swallowed painfully as the first tear fell down her cheek. She was still gazing at him, willing him to look back at her once more, so he could at least see how genuine her present confession was. He didn't; and as painful as it was, she realised that there was nothing she could do but go on.

"You're so sure that I can't be close to him, and maybe you're right. Maybe I’m really not, because honestly, why would someone like him even look at someone like me? I'm sure that _you_ could meet me in real life and you wouldn’t pay any more mind than you would to any other passer-by on the street. But that's the thing about Adrien: he _does_ notice people, as insignificant as they may seem. He's kind and selfless, ignoring his fame and his wealth for the sake of his friends, treating his classmates as equals when he easily could have been yet another Chloe. He could have been conceited and self-absorbed, using his father's position to wiggle out of responsibilities in the same way she does.

"I know it still may not be enough to convince you or even if it is, it won’t change the way you're feeling or your opinion of me, but that's the truth. That's the boy I fell in love with over two years ago: not the model the world knows but the honest, considerate classmate I've been blessed to meet myself. The boy who'd go to any lengths to become my friend, even when I could hardly form a sentence while talking to him, or when I confused him with my outbursts or made him deal with my crazy, ever-changing moods... And yes, he does see me as his friend and nothing more; but you more than anyone should know that this is hardly a reason to stop caring for the person you love."

It was her turn to look away then, as she reached for her yo-yo and readied herself to depart. She didn’t see the way her companion's head had jerked up at the sudden silence, his eyes wide with astonishment as he searched her face and figure, as if expecting her to pick up her speech where she'd left it.

She did no such thing however, confident in her belief that all that could matter had already been said. With the magic device in her hand, she looked as if she was going to leave at any given second and yet, it was clear that something still prevented her from going.

Whether it was the feeling of Chat's stare boring into her back or the silent, only half-realised plea that he was sending in her direction, she had no way of telling.

Whatever it was, it made her turn around and face him at last, their eyes meeting for the very last time that night.

With a heavy sigh and a far heavier heart, she said, "We've been taught that our deal with fortune is that of the opposite kinds – I obtain or the luck while you get none. The truth is, when it comes to love, I'm no more lucky than you are, Chat. The only difference is that you were always brave enough to speak of it out loud."

And with that she was gone, fading into the night like a phantom in the mist, leaving him alone on a rooftop that suddenly seemed terribly cold.


	2. Just Let Me Fall Apart

What happened afterwards was really quite simple, amounting to no more than one word overall.

_Run._

That was the word Ladybug kept hearing, from the moment she had turned away from Cat to when she was safely distanced from him not so many moments later. A little word that burned her mind with the obstinacy behind it, urging her to keep up her pace or speed it up if she could, daring her to break her own records before her feet had first left the ground.

Threatening her with all the consequences that would instantly fall on her in case she had not.

So she did. She ran as if there was no tomorrow, as if her very life depended on how fast she could flee. She ran _away_ – from Cat, from herself, from the fears and anxiety that were sure to overcome her if she as much as considered making a stop.

And thus even though her own exhaustion was enough to slow her down from time to time, taking over her like a wave and successfully ruining her gait, it could never last long. Each of those times, Ladybug would slacken or lose her rhythm, only to pick up her pace again the next moment, going faster and faster after every such lapse.

There was no plan for it, there wasn’t a bigger strategy to follow. Only the simple knowledge that as long as she sprinted in the dark, she could keep her emotions at bay, if not by distracting herself, then at least by keeping her distance from what had caused them to resurface in the first place.

Frightened and confused as she might be, she was no more willing to let her fears swallow her than she usually was.

And yet, her stubbornness and strength could only get her this far. Focused on her internal struggle, she forgot to take her physical state into the equation; lost in her thoughts, she paid no mind to the passage of time or the length of the distance she had covered so far. Her suit gifted her with endurance; her powers gave her the confidence to trust in it blindly.

It wasn’t long before she was reminded that even the Ladybug miraculous had its limits.

And so she stumbled. Once, twice, a few more times afterwards. She ignored the fact each time, just as she ignored her own weariness or the tears that blurred her sight, determined not to give in to what to her was nothing but a misplaced turmoil of the heart. As if to punish her for her tenacity, her body wavered under her weight: she stumbled again, this time nearly losing her balance and meeting the ground face first. She regained it in the last possible moment… and then did what she had been doing for the bigger part of an hour.

She resumed her run.

Still, even this determined she could not prevent what was inevitably coming. For the last time, she faltered, and this time, her stumble turned out to be a real one; a great finale to this sorrowful, miserable act.

One moment she was moving her legs in a frenzied chase, jumping from one foot to the other almost frantically – the next found her on her knees as she rolled over in order to break that most unprofessional fall.

Really, it was only thanks to her luck that the roof she was traversing was a flat and broad one.

She came to a halt seconds later. Propped on her outstretched arms and panting heavily, she was able to fight neither her physical exhaustion nor the mental fatigue that had finally caught up to her; both of which seemed to strike at her with doubled force now, as if wanting to prove just how pointless her flight had been from the start.

As if she hadn’t already known _that_.

With the last ounce of strength, Ladybug raised her head and looked around, searching for a haven that could somehow shelter her in this most difficult of times. She did not wish for much; she knew she was nowhere near her home, as well as that no other place could shelter her in the way her own room would.

Besides, where else was she to go? Even if Alya had lived right under the roof she was currently kneeling on, it still wouldn’t have made a difference. She _couldn’t_ talk to her about this – she couldn’t talk to anyone, really. Not to Alya, not to her own mother, not to any of her numerous, caring friends. It was between her and Cat Noir; and heavens knew she could not talk to _him_ , either.

In the corner of her eye she spotted a chimney. It was wide and tall enough for her to hide behind it, or maybe even rest her back against it comfortably… and it was mere meters away from when she was now. In an instance she was up, walking over to the spot, slouched under the burdens of her worries and the gushes of the wind that had suddenly started to howl. She reached her destination seconds later and, proud of her little victory, she let out a long, wistful sigh.

And then she sunk down, with her back against the cold bricks and her legs pulled to her chest, as she pressed her face against her now trembling knees.

Forgetting all of her previous resolutions, she finally allowed herself to cry.

* * *

It was forty minutes and a few sets of tears later that Ladybug finally returned to her own home. Too weary to think of all proper precautions, she hoped that the quick look around from her balcony was enough this time. Of course, she knew she should have been more careful; and of course that the way she was acting could fairly be named irresponsible, not to mention that under normal circumstances she would have been the first to point all that out.

If only she could bring herself to care.

She opened the trapdoor that led to her bedroom and jumped down hastily, her transformation dropping before her feet could even touch the mattress below. She could feel Tikki appear next to her and fly up to her face not a second later, with a look of concern reflecting all over her minuscule face. To Marinette, that was hardly a surprise; she knew her mouse-bug well, and expected nothing less than the gentle show of affection her kwami was about to display.

It was just one more thing that made her love Tikki as much as she did – and yet, even that could be of no comfort to her right now.

“I need a shower,” Marinette announced quietly, though with a note of firmness ringing in her voice. “I’m gonna have one real quick, and then I’d like to go to bed as soon as possible, so… Oh my goodness, Tikki, _don’t_ look at me like this.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it first?” Tikki protested, once again following her Chosen, as the latter rummaged through her drawers in search of pyjamas.

Marinette merely shook her head in response.

Tikki sighed deeply but didn’t give up on her quest. “Please, Marinette, I know it may be hard, but if you keep it bottled up like this, it will only grow until -”

“I’ll be fine,” the girl cut her off impatiently. “I’ve spent the past hour or more thinking about everything that had happened on that roof, crying my eyes out and feeling guilty for something that has never been my fault. I know it’s not over yet; I know I’ll have to go back and face it again and soon. And I guess I _could_ talk to you about it now,” she paused for a second and took a deep breath before continuing, “But if I do, I’ll only fall apart again, when I have just managed to pull myself together. I think you understand how going through that particular breakdown is the last thing I want right now.”

“What if it’s what you need, though?”

“What I need above all now is sleep, Tikki. I understand why you’re worried… But there is nothing you or I can do about it now. I need a rested, well-functioning brain while at the moment mine is everything but. Not to mention, I still have school to attend in the morning, remember?”

She left the room with her words echoing after her and a small, reassuring smile tugging on her lips The expression changed as soon as the door closed behind her, the heartache once again replacing the fake pose taken up for her kwami’s sake. She didn’t feel fine at all, nor did she expect it to change in the nearest future.

All she wished for was a chance to curl up in her bed and give in to her sobbing in the same way she had done before; to shout out her frustration and anger into the soft pillows without worrying that it would undoubtedly wake up her parents if she did; to be free to crumble down once again and not to think of how Tikki would take it.

She did _not_ want to talk about it.

She just wanted to cry.

And as she stepped into the shower tray and the steam and water engulfed her, she decided to do just that.

* * *

So, yes, Ladybug – Marinette – was a mess. All of the emotions she had faced since her talk to Cat Noir, all of the feelings that had come to her after she'd left seemed to add up to one another, combining in the way she never would have thought possible before. Grief and anger, disappointment and wounded pride, tiredness and impatience and ire – they had come to her one by one and stayed, blending into the poisonous mixture that left her wanting nothing but to forget it all; to fall asleep immediately and then wake up in a reality where none of it was true.

Or at least one in which _she_ could think it wasn't.

And yet, as exhausted and hurt as she was, those feelings began to fade eventually. The shower that had only been meant to serve as an excuse had proven to be of real, substantial help. The hot water that at first was nothing but a camouflage to her tears had also washed away some of her physical weariness in the process, while the gentle sound of it tapping against the tray calmed down her nerves on the more spiritual level.

All in all, when she had finally left the bathroom and entered her own room once more, her equilibrium was at least partially restored. She still wanted to hide under her duvet and weep; still felt like any attempt at trying to talk her worries through with Tikki would end up with disaster; still couldn't comprehend why her companion and the best of human friends could have treated her so unjustly, accusing her of crimes she had never committed. There was also a new resolution taking form in her, however, and when she had climbed onto her bed at last, she was more than determined not to pay the situation any more attention at the time.

She flopped onto the mattress, covered herself entirely and, contrary to what she had expected, fell asleep before she could shed more than a few tears.

If only she knew how far from such blissfulness was the boy who had unleashed the turmoil for them both.

  
  



	3. In the Rain(storm)

If Ladybug was a bundle of nerves, then Cat Noir was a walking, talking disaster.

He was a mess.

He was a failure.

He was mad and he was scared, as well as utterly and perfectly astonished.

He was _stunned._

He had no idea what to do, how to respond to the deluge of information his Lady had poured on him, unable to put together the scrapes she had given him and too terrified to face the idea that was starting to loom before his eyes as the most probable one.

He was a coward; but this time, he simply couldn't fight the fears that were holding him back.

So while Ladybug decided to jam the whirlwind of emotions that came over her with the help of her superpowers and her strength, running across the rooftops and fighting to maintain her sanity by escaping the horrors that were following her, her partner stood still, incapable of making the slightest of moves.

She knew she'd fall apart the moment she came to a halt; he realised his downfall would come the moment he woke up from his daze.

So he remained in his place, amazed, dumbfounded, motionless. His eyes had followed her when she'd left and then stayed fixed on the horizon, on the same spot he had last seen her. He watched the sky go darker without noticing the cause of such change: the dark, heavy clouds that concealed the brightness of the moon and swallowed the stars that accompanied it. He kept looking, as if he still expected her to come back, to land on the rooftop next to him and sight the solution he was too blind to see.

To fix what she – he – _they_ had broken that night.

He stirred when the first drops landed on his cheeks, but didn't leave his outpost anyway. Looking up at the sky and exposing his face to the more and more violent beating of the rain was the most he could do; closing his eyes was the greatest movement he could be persuaded to make.

He breathed in the cold, humid air, desperately trying to block the images and words that were invading his mind – both those who were born from his own recent experiences and those which (he was certain of it) came to him from Plagg. It wasn't the first time when he heard his kwami's voice when transformed, even if said voice was as subtle as the one of his own subconsciousness.

As helpful as it could be at times, hearing it now only added to his pain.

He thought about de-transforming. At least then he could tell Plagg to shut up directly, or even block his ears quite literally if the latter had decided to ignore his pleas. The idea was rejected as quickly as it was born, however, and there was a very simple, very obvious reason for that.

The last person he needed right now was Adrien Agreste without a mask.

Adrien, the reason for this ordeal.

Adrien, the perfect, boring boy.

Adrien, the one who's won his Lady's heart without doing a single thing to deserve that, when the true, honest, imperfect part of him known as Cat Noir had never even stood a chance.

Could anyone really expect him to rejoice in a discovery of this kind?

He would have called it ironic, if it hadn't hurt so much. But it did; it hurt so, _so_ terribly, to think that none of the things he had ever done for her were enough to make her care for him in the way in which he cared for her. They'd been through so much together: fighting alongside for so many, many months now, going through hardships and challenges, telling jokes and fooling around whenever they felt they could afford that.

How many times had he seen her feeling down and pressed her to spill the beans, until she'd broken into sobs and admitted to all that had been bothering her? How many of those breakdowns had been caused by the indifference of they boy she'd claimed to love, whom he often wanted to strangle with his bare hands, only to learn that he himself was the reason of her distress?

What had _Adrien_ ever done to deserve her love?

And then: had he really been jealous of himself this whole time?

He snorted, annoyed with his own conclusions. It should have been so easy now: to simply wait for the opportunity to approach Ladybug as his civilian self and cease the chance by telling her how much he cared for her, all in the hopes she would not deny what she'd admitted to him today. It sure would be awkward at first, and it sure would require a lot of wit to make this supposedly hero-civilian relationship work – but if he truly loved her, it certainly was worth the trouble.

Right?

Only he knew it would not work. Not only because he knew for sure that he would never be able to hide the truth from her for long, either blurting it out by accident or openly revealing his secret when he got too tired of hiding it. All of the above was true; and yet, it was not even the second most important reason for his unwillingness to as much as try to do this.

How could he even assume she _would_ have him then?

He didn't know her as Adrien, not really. A few meetings during an akuma attack, just like he'd said before. A few smiles given and received, a bit of small-talk, a word of meaningless comfort only to show her that he would always support her. Nothing more, though; nothing to claim that he actually did know her any better than the rest of her fans did.

He'd accused her of choosing someone she couldn't know, of putting a shallow celebrity crush above the years of friendship and effort.

If he approached her as Adrien, could she really see his affection as anything else?

After all, a 'celebrity crush' was exactly the term Nino had used when he'd finally learnt his secret a few weeks before.

Adrien Agreste didn't know Ladybug.

Ladybug didn't know Adrien.

She couldn't have.

Or... could she?

“ _And what if I_ _do_ _know him?”_

"Get out of my brain," he drawled through his gritted teeth, turning around violently and pressing his hands against the sides of his head. "Get out, get out, _get out_!"

His cry resonated in the air for a second, before it was drown out by the noises of the rain falling around him. He could feel the hot tears burning behind his eyes as the walls he'd raised around his heart cracked, threatening to let in the same images and ideas he was so afraid to see.

So afraid do accept.

He was not ready for that.

And yet, the damage had already been done. No matter how tightly he shut his eyes, how great was the pressure between his hands and ears, how loud or low his growls were, they were of no use.

Closing his eyelids could not erase the picture of her shocked, hurting face, engraved in his memory with the same feeling of guilt that had been slowly taking over him ever since she'd left. Covering his ears did was no obstacle for the recollections of her voice, of the broken, disappointed tone she'd used while speaking to him.

His shouts could never jam the words she had pierced him with.

_"You don't know me."_

_"I'm not Ladybug in my real life. I'm nothing like the girl you know."_

_"I'm sure that you could meet me in real life and you wouldn’t pay any more mind than you would to any other passer-by on the street."_

She'd been so right and yet, so horribly, horribly wrong.

Of course, he didn't know her. Not truly, not completely, and nowhere near to the extent he wished to know her. _She_ was the one who had made sure he never would, who had kept doing so regardless of how much he pleaded with her.

No matter how many sensible, impartial arguments he had presented, Ladybug had always had the same answer for him.

_"We have no right to know."_

There had been a time when he'd believed he might change her mind; a short time of gullibility after she had been named the new Guardian, taking over from Master Fu after their so-called victory over Hawkmoth, Mayura and Queen Bee. None of their previous winning had been achieved by such a cost and if he could, he would have done anything to make sure in never happened. It had, however; and even though it'd been hard to bare and unwanted, the change had also rekindled the spark of hope he'd thought long gone at the time.

His reasoning was simple: if Master Fu, the Guardian, had known his civilian identity, there was no reason why Ladybug, the Guardian he had chosen as his successor, should not know it as well.

And then it was only fair he learnt hers.

Still, she was not to be persuaded. He knew for sure she had talked about it not only with Tikki, but with Wayzz as well – and from how awkwardly she talked to _him_ later on he easily figured that the kwamis were not exactly against the idea. It was Ladybug who was; the choice was hers and hers alone.

How little she must have trusted him.

And yet, the same knowledge he'd been yearning for all this time somehow turned to be the greatest of threats now.

Suddenly he didn't wish to know at all.

Suddenly, there was no way he could escape it.

And _she_ was the one who had given him all the information necessary for it.

"Get out," he whispered brokenly, repeating the words like a mantra, for what felt like a hundredth time that night. His tangled locks were dripping wet from all the rain that had become much more like a downpour by now. The cold water had found its way under his collar, flowing down his back, evading the protection his suit would normally have given him. His teeth would have begin to chatter if he hadn't been gritting them so hard; his body would have shaken with shivers if his inner turmoil hadn't had him trembling from the start.

When he fell onto his knees he knew it had nothing to do with the wind that howled around him.

The tears were running down his face freely now, the hot drops mixed with the icy water brought to his cheeks by the storm. He pressed his chin against his chest and buried his fingers even deeper in his hair, as if he'd been trying to block the reality from getting to him; but to no avail.

_Probably because it already_ _ **had**_.

He tried to scream for the last time, trusting he could at least let out some of the pain and frustration in this way, the emotions he could not fight otherwise. But his voice caught in his throat, and the scream stayed within him; cutting and burning, wounding him like no villain ever could.

Was it the price for his stubbornness, for his decision to deny the truth that was standing right before him?

And if he accepted that truth, would the pain go away?

"But I can't!" he choked between his sobs. "She doesn't want me to know who she is. And I don't wish to know against her will. And I can't – I can't – I _can't_ -

_I can't take it if she's who I think she is._

_"The honest, considerate classmate I've been blessed to meet myself."_

There was no fooling himself anymore. Even if she hadn't said anything else – if she'd skipped the part about her clumsiness or the mentions of the way she stuttered when near him – that sentence alone would have been enough to make the truth as plain as a day to him. And it had; he could spend the rest of his life crouched on this roof, battling the obvious and refusing to accept that fact in the same way he'd been doing until now and it still wouldn't have changed a thing.

He didn't need any details. No more personal information, no suggestions, no clues. All he needed was implied in that one, short, simple line:

Ladybug was his classmate.

He knew exactly which one.


	4. Romanticism is When it Hurts

When Adrien came home that night he was cold and exhausted, the tiredness of his body fighting that of his mind in their contest for the first place. Water dripped from his hair and suit, and soon there was a shiny new puddle on his otherwise perfectly clean floor. His room was silent, grand and dark. True, it was warm, warmer than it was outside anyway; but even that warmth was nothing but a trick, a work of radiators and pipes instead of the people who shared this home with him.

None of it could surprise him and yet, each of those features made his misery grow stronger even more.

It was not a place of comfort to him. It never had been and it never would be. Again, he knew all that.

It was one of the reasons why it'd taken him so long to get back.

"This is madness."

He raised his hand to rub his tired face. His eyelids seemed to fall regardless of his will when his body shook with a sudden shiver. It was as if the change of temperature had only begun to get to him, making his limbs tremble as his muscles tightened and loosened up in turn.

Quite frankly, he wanted nothing but the right to crash onto his bed and sleep – and at the same time, he refused to grant himself such a right.

How could he sleep on a night like this one?

He looked around the room again, searching for a place where he could rest instead. His couch was more than inviting, of course, but given how comfortable it also was, it hardly would have been a better choice than his bed. He was, admittedly, certain that he wouldn't get a wink even if he tried to; it was, however, a risk he was not willing to take.

He had enough reasons to despise himself as it was, without adding indolence to the mix.

His eyes settled over his desk and the chair next to it. He saw his silhouette reflecting on all three monitor screens, and suddenly realised that he still hadn't de-transformed. He cursed under his breath at the idea of seeing his civilian self take place of his current reflection; and then cursed again when he understood that it really made no difference anymore.

Right now, he hated both of his sides equally.

"If only I could lose my memory together with the suit," he muttered angrily as he turned around and clenched his fists unconsciously.

There was a violence in his moves, his tone, in the way he glared at the hateful place in which he'd spent the greatest part of his life. He knew of the presence of that particular feeling; he supposed it matched his mood as well as his behaviour and nature, or maybe even his superhero role.

After all, what could go better together than destruction and force?

Goodness gracious, some superhero he was.

"Claws in," he said with sudden firmness, as if afraid his cowardice would get the better of him and hold him from returning to his civilian form for even longer. The flash of green came and went, and soon Cat Noir was replaced by Adrien, with all the changes such a transformation implied. His wet, tangled locks gave place to his usual, perfect hairstyle; his suit to the regular school-boy clothes; the colour of his eyes and the shape of his irises to those of a human again.

And yet, the look of hurt that reflected in them was still painfully unchanged.

"Not a word about this, Plagg," he warned his friend before the latter had even opened his mouth. "I'm sure you've got plenty to say about this but I really don't need – or want – your commentary this time. You murmuring in my head when I was Cat was enough, so please, let's not repeat that."

"That might be a good argument, kid, if you had actually listened to what I said back there," Plagg retorted slyly, as he crossed his tiny arms. "And it's not like I said that much. I only told you to follow her, instead of standing rooted on that roof."

Adrien snorted.

"You kept _screaming_ in my head, over and over again," he replied. "Which is exactly why I didn't listen."

"Because of _how_ I screamed or because of _what_?"

"Both, I suppose."

He turned on his heel then; his eyes caught by the sight of the bathroom door that suddenly seemed to be calling him in the same way his bed and couch had been just a few moments afore. He considered succumbing to the baitfor a moment – after all, even de-transformed, he still felt cold and exhausted beyond belief. He pushed the idea aside however, as quickly as it had appeared in his mind.

It was another privilege that was not appertain to him. And besides...

No amount of soap could wash away the feeling of guilt that was rooted in him now.

He decided to walk over to his desk instead, taking his seat and slumping, resting his elbows on the desk and hiding his face in his hands immediately. He felt like the world's greatest loser and there was no helping it; he wasn't even going to try change that.

"You never even think I might simply want to comfort you, huh?" he heard Plagg's hoarse voice resonate right over his right ear, but chose to ignore it. As childish as it was, he turned his face away in protest instead – only to be met with his mother's gentle look as she gazed back at him from the photography on he'd put there all those years ago.

Yet another mistake he'd made tonight.

"Ugh!" he growled before hitting his forehead against his desk and covering his head with his hands. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!"

"Well, that you are for sure," the kwami responded with a roll of his eyes as he floated in the safe distance from his Chosen; he had no wish to get hit if the latter decided to make another of his highly unexpected moves. "Getting all worked up for something like this, and not even allowing me to help. Come on kid, just talk to me and you'll see I can cheer you up in no time."

"I don't want to be cheered up!"

Suddenly he was back on his feet again and glaring daggers at the little creature who certainly didn't deserved to be looked at in this way. Adrien felt it wasn't right the moment he'd finished his line; and yet, it was nothing but a natural reaction on his part, and as such, it could hardly make him regret it.

Then again, that didn't absolve him from an apology.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, sinking in his chair once more and closing his eyes. "It's not your fault. None of it. And I'm grateful that even though it's not, you're still here to try to comfort me. Only..."

He paused for a second, as if he still needed time to think of the proper ending to the sentence he'd just begun, although he well knew there was only one ending he could pronounce.

"Only I don't think I deserve to be comforted."

Because he didn't.

Not tonight.

They both kept silent after that, neither of them feeling they should break the quietness with unnecessary words. Adrien was sure there was nothing more to add; Plagg who, on the contrary, had quite a bit to say about the matter, realised that even the wisest advice would be disregarded, if voiced at the wrong time.

And he wasn't someone who liked being ignored for a reason as banal as this one.

Time passed and Adrien still sat there, motionless. Seconds turned into minutes and he still remained in the same position he'd taken up from the start, much like he had done on that rooftop not so many hours earlier. It was the same feeling of numbness that was beginning to overcome him now, as he was unconsciously trying to rear the walls around him in the hopes to protect his vulnerable self.

Had he realised the true reasoning behind such a stance, he probably would have refused himself the right to take it as well.

Sometime along the way his fingers found their way to the ring on his other hand. He fiddled with it for a while, turning it around and brushing against the sharp edges, as if he'd been trying to learn the details he'd known by heart for so very long. At last, he opened his eyes, raised his hand to their level and -

"Whoa, whoa, kid, what do you think you're doing?!" Plagg exclaimed in surprise, watching his Owner remove the ring from his finger. "I know it's not the best night in your life, but that's hardly a reason to throw away your miraculous!"

"I'm not," Adrien answered calmly, although it was clear he wasn't feeling serene at all. He took the magic jewel between his fingers and looked at it closely. "I'm not throwing it away. Not now, anyway."

Plagg snorted.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better, huh?" he asked. "Well, it's not working, kid. Or are you trying to blackmail me, like you did last time? You know, with Syren around?"

"I don't know. Do you have any other secrets you should be sharing with me?" Adrien retorted immediately, meeting his kwami's cynical glare with his own icy one. He turned away at once, however, fixing his eyes on the ring once more. "Doesn't matter; there's nothing more I need to know at the moment, not that you'd ever tell me if there were. And I've already learnt more than I should have tonight."

He swallowed hard, before adding:

"I really don't deserve to be wearing this, do I?"

He raised his eyes back at Plagg. The iciness of his gaze was gone, though, replaced by the not-so-new expression of weariness and sorrow, of irritation and disappointment towards no one but himself. He expected Plagg to roll his eyes or snort again, or maybe growl impatiently at him. Instead he was met by a most solemn look and a hint of real anger reflecting on his companion's countenance.

"What?" he couldn't help but ask, taken aback by the abrupt change.

"Please don't tell me we're going to get through _that_ again," Plagg responded with the same seriousness ringing in his words. "Your childish trust-connected, Syren-related tantrums are one thing. The post-Desperada depression is a different kettle of fish entirely."

Adrien couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at this, his astonishment only growing. He wasn't sure what had surprised him more: the terms used by his kwami or the fact that there still was no trace of humour in his voice, even though the words he'd pronounced suggested it.

Plagg _never_ referred to his past in such a serious manner.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered eventually, with a grimace of discontent taking place of the expression of amazement. He frowned at his friend; however, he did not look away this time. "This has nothing to do with either of those attacks."

"Quite the opposite, dear Adrien, it has everything to do with it," Plagg countered mercilessly. "I remember very well all of that moping you did back then and no amount of cheese will make me say otherwise. Darn it, kid, I'm ready to bet a lifetime of camembert that you remember it, too."

"Of course I remember it!"

"Then why are you pretending not to, huh?"

"I'm not. I'm only saying that I can't see the connection between the two disasters you're referring to." Adrien's tone grew cold again and yet, he still hadn't averted his eyes. "Unless you mean that both of them were my fault, which is, of course, true. But that's far how the similarities go."

Plagg merely sniggered at that.

"And, _of course_ , you doubting your worth as a superhero is an entirely new thing," he said. "It's not like its _exactly_ what happened after the whole Desperada fiasco, when you suddenly decided you weren't good enough to be a superhero anymore, or that you didn't deserve Ladybug's affection after all, or -"

"Alright, fine!" Adrien scream in response, his voice reaching the volume that would have awoken half of his household if only he'd lived in a normally sized one, instead of the big, hollow mansion he'd been raised in. "Maybe there is some connection to it, but that only confirms that I've been right from the start. I am _not_ good enough for this. I might have got away with this at first but now... I should be better than this. By now, I should have learnt how to control my pettiness and impatience and jealousy. Instead, I let myself get all riled up and, what's worse, I allowed Ladybug to see it."

"I'd say it's only normal that your impatience should grow with time. I mean, I'd be worried if that weren't the case," his kwami answered calmly. "And also, what's with that _conceal, don't feel_ part? You're a teenager, Adrien, it would be just as worrying if you kept it all bottled up at all times."

It was Adrien's turn to let out a hollow little laugh.

"Yeah?" he mused. "Well, tell my father that. I'm sure he'd agree wholeheartedly – oh, no, wait, he'd need a heart for that. But -" he added quickly, before his companion could scold him for changing the topic. "that's not the point. The point is I should have stayed silent. I should have shut up when I first saw her distress, instead of letting my anger thrive on it. If there has ever been a time when my father's reserve might be useful, it was tonight. I knew it and still, I screwed up."

"It was Cat Noir who argued with Ladybug, not the Agreste boy, though, was it?"

"It was still _me_ , Plagg!"

It was as if all of the emotions that had run through his soul by this time came back to him again, mixed together in the most dangerous combination. The shock he'd felt while still talking to Ladybug on that roof; the pain and fear that had overcome him the moment she'd left him; the violence that had rose in him as soon as he'd stepped into his own, dark room and the disgust and guilt which had washed over him right after.

The sorrow and hurt that could not have been separated from those – and they all rang in his voice now.

All of them squashed into those three little words.

_It was me._

He felt the tears gather in his eyes and wiped them away, angrily. It wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself or to indulge his weakness and fall apart just because he didn't feel capable of doing anything else.

And yet, what else could he do?

"It doesn't matter if I was transformed or not," he picked up eventually, for want of a better idea. "I know that everyone in Paris thinks of Cat Noir and Adrien as two different people, and that's exactly how it should be. Honestly, there are times when _I_ think of them like this! But... But the truth is, they are two sides of the same person. The same _me_. Cat puns or not, I'm still _me_ in that costume; if anything, Cat Noir is the truer part of myself. Only nobody seems to care for that part."

He paused for a moment then; a moment so long that Plagg began to suspect he would not pick up his speech again. Or so he would have, had he known his Chosen even slightly less than he did.

He didn't need to read Adrien's thoughts to know they had arrived at the most difficult part yet.

It was a few deep breaths later when Adrien looked up at his kwami again and said, "All of the things I've said to Ladybug tonight, I've said as Cat Noir – her partner, her supposedly best friend, her loyal companion. As the guy who claims to love her."

He clenched his fists and let out a long, weary sigh.

"I hurt the girl I care about most, Plagg. All because I was jealous. Of _myself_."

Silence fell on the room again, and this time it was obvious that it wouldn't be broken any time soon. Neither the hurting boy nor his concerned companion felt any need to do so – the former certain that he wasn't strong enough to continue with the topic that distressed him so, the latter aware that, once again, it was not his place to interfere.

So he didn't.

It was still raining heavily, the big drops hitting violently against the grand window that bore more resemblance to a set of prison bars than to an opening to the world it usually symbolised. The wind grew stronger and at one point, a sudden crack of thunder startled them, too.

He remembered one of his old literature classes, one that had been meant to introduce them to the European romanticism. Ever the romantic himself, he'd been sure he knew exactly what it would be about: the elation of the heart, the joy and ecstasy as well as the quiet appreciation, the ability to take a seemingly meaningless detail and describe in the way that would make it seem like the greatest jewel of the world.

He also remembered his own surprise when he'd learnt that he had been only half right: that the romanticism he'd been about to study had more to do with stormy seas and dreadful cold than with a warmth of a family or a candlelit dinner with the one you loved. It was solitude and despair, the certainty that even though there is someone meant for you, even if the bond between you was written in the stars, there was next to no chance to fulfill any of the dreams you might have.

It was a flash, an earthquake, a most violent gale.

_A dream, which was not all a dream._

Adrien stopped fiddling with his ring at last and shut his eyes, as the words tumbled into his brain without him summoning them. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hear them or not, whether he wished to chase the thought away or let it grow. So he did neither, leaving it up to his subconsciousness and memory, wondering if he even could recall the rest of the poem that had so unexpectedly come to his mind.

_The bright sun... the bright SUN..._

"The bright sun _extinguish'd_ ," he heard Plagg chime in wearily and turned towards him, as if awaiting for the kwami to continue. He should have been taken aback by the fact that Plagg (Plagg!) has just quoted Byron for him... But he wasn't. Nothing could astonish him now.

He waited, then, even though it soon turned out that his friend was not going to go on with his recitation. Adrien couldn't help but smile sadly. It appeared those few words were enough to prompt his own imperfect memory to take over from there.

_The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars  
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,  
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth  
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;_

The storm raged outside. The lights were all out.

Adrien let out a mirthless chuckle.

Maybe that was all romanticism he was going to get.


	5. Careful What You Wish For

_Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,  
And men forgot their passions in the dread  
Of this their desolation; and all hearts  
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light._

It was well past four when Adrien finally granted himself the permission to call it a night, at long last realising that even after the horrors of the hours that preceded his decision he still deserved the minimum amount of sleep he still could get.

Especially when there was a photo shoot awaiting him so early in the morning.

He rose from his chair then, with a grunt that resulted from more than the soreness of his body, and walked over to his bed, dragging his feet as if the few quarters he'd spent by his desk had added decades to his young age. Again, there was more to it than stiffness, but that he conveniently ignored.

He flopped onto the mattress and dived under the duvet in one swift motion, foregoing the idea of a shower that he still would've been obliged to take in the morning, limiting his preparation for sleep to kicking off his shoes (something he'd done with perfect ease on his way towards the bed) and shrugging off the shirt (which he had done right after). He was dead on his feet, and with a headache that seemed to grow with every passing second; his thoughts a tangled mess and his conscience battered and searing.

All he wanted now was to sleep. To fall into oblivion, even if for a little while, even if he knew it would all rush back to him the moment he was up.

 _Of course_ he wasn't getting any of it.

So he shut his eyes tight and attempted not to think until sleepiness took over him. When that didn't work (to no one's surprise), he tried to think of something else, counting sheep and evening his breathing, visualising whatever images he could summon that would not remind him of this current ordeal.

He thought of his mother and father, of the happy times when they had all been together. He did his best to remember the colours of her clothes and the scent of her perfumes as well as the gentle smile on his father's face, one he hadn't seen for so long. It was painful in a way, but soothing nonetheless; and certainly far easier to deal with than the spotted pattern that would have taken over his imagination had he not made sure it was otherwise occupied.

And so it would have been, with the vision of his family successfully blocking that of his partner, the sadness in his father's eyes still easier to bear than the sight of tear's on Ladybug's cheeks.

If only his growing sleepiness hadn't meant lowering his guard.

It did, however; and the closer Adrien was to falling asleep, the more willing he was to succumb to the numbness, the greater became the risk of letting the unwanted thoughts wander into his mind and thus render the entire plan useless. Far too exhausted at this point, he ignored the first signs, stubbornly believing that thinking of his missing mother would be enough to keep him serene. He allowed the images of Miss Bustier to show itself and even smiled weakly at the apparition. He let Max and Kim join her, together with Rose, Juleka, Nathaniel and Mark.

He wasn't surprised or annoyed by the thought of Chloe, his first, and for years, only friend, nor by the fact that Sabrina appeared next to her soon. And he could only wonder why it had taken him so long to add Nino and Alya into the cheerful mix.

Focused on the bright side, he didn't think that in his class there was someone he didn't want to think of.

_The honest, considerate classmate._

_**Marinette.** _

"Oh, for Heavens' sake!" he growled with exasperation, all the more annoyed when he'd realised that the image he'd vowed not to summon had not only found its way to his mind regardless of his endeavours, but had also managed to chase away all traces of sleepiness quite successfully. His irritation only continued to grow when he pondered over it, no longer able to block the unwanted thoughts from entering his brain.

In fact, he wasn't even sure if his did want to block them.

"Hell yes, I do," he answered his own assessment, turning onto his side rapidly and covering his head with a pillow, as if that simple barrier could really shelter him from the attacks of his own unruly imagination. "I've spent enough nights thinking about her when I should have stopped after the first time she told me to move on. No good came from it then, and no good will come from it now. And don't you dare to say anything, Plagg."

He grit his teeth and shut his eyes, while his fingers tightened their grip on the the pillow still pressed against his head. He felt - knew - believed that he was right, that no matter what his stupid heart was trying to tell him, there really was no use thinking about his partner right now.

Not when he was so certain that he was the last thing on her mind.

* * *

Now, the Adrien who woke up again a few hours later was not the same who'd gone to bed.

The latter was confused and weary, haunted by the enormous feeling of guilt that could by no means be called appropriate even when it came to the worst of what he called his crimes; lost and hurting, he could not find it in himself to look at the situation impartially or even accept the compassion offered by Plagg, simply because he didn't think he was worthy of it.

The former, as puzzled and unhappy as he still was, hardly matched the description, though.

He felt less; he understood more.

He hoped he did, anyway. The very idea of having to re-organise his thinking as well as admitting that he had been, yet again, _wrong_ was repulsive, so much that he could swear it caused him to feel physically sick. Besides, after the amount of time he'd spent pondering over the subject, he couldn't have been far from the so-called objective truth.

He just _couldn’t_.

He threw the covers away, and sat up rapidly, grimacing at his ill-conceived decision to sleep in his clothes, a decision that had resulted directly in the feeling of a sweaty t-shirt and creased trousers which surely were way too tight to fall into the category of potential pyjamas. The sour expression only hardened when he felt his head spin; the realisation that the sudden feeling was nothing but a natural reaction to his rapture motion did nothing to improve his mood in any way.

He got up and wandered towards the bathroom, purposefully ignoring the headache that quickly replaced the earlier feeling of dizziness, or maybe just came to the surface after the latter had subsided. He needed a shower; and he hoped that it would help with more than the sweatiness of his hair and skin.

Goodness gracious, was he exhausted.

"I _hate_ morning shoots," he muttered angrily, as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside, the vexation downright steaming from him. "I hate never getting to sleep in because of them, I hate missing school whenever they send me to one. And I _hate_ that they've been so many of them recently."

With another grunt, he stepped into the shower tray, and turned the tap, half expecting to find the water gone, or icy-cold at best, for after all, it was exactly the kind of day when malfunctions of this sort usually happened to him.

_I hate this job._

Well, that wasn't true and he knew it. Sure, a career in the fashion industry, much less as a model, had never really been a part of his long-term plans, and not only because he'd been hoping to start anew somewhere where his father's influence wasn't so overwhelmingly powerful. He still dreamed of finding work in a field that would genuinely interest him, of course... but even though he had no say in becoming the number one model for the _Gabriel_ brand, he had never gone as far as to say he _hated_ it.

It was boring and came in a way; it had made him have to deal with popularity he'd been neither ready or willing to face when he'd first become known and which, for some reason, did not appear to be fading with the passage of time, like he'd once hoped it would. It meant being bossed around even more, not only by Nathalie or his father but by the (numerous) photographers, dressers and make-up artists as well.

To him, it had never been much fun - and yet, he had never failed to find at least some bright aspects of it.

Until today, that is. There was nothing positive about today.

He was out of the shower in a record time, despite - or perhaps, _because of_ \- the tremendous temptation of staying in there and letting the hot streams of water numb the throbbing pain he still hadn't got rid of. He _did_ find the idea alluring, and even believed for a second that it could help; until he remembered how little the two full hours of sleep had done for him in that regard.

It was then that Adrien noticed the lack of Plagg's presence around him and wondered idly where the tiny creature might be. A little more awake than he'd been a quarter before, he crossed the threshold of his bedroom again and looked around and, when that didn't give him the result he wanted, he cleared his throat and waited for a response.

However, none came.

"Plagg?" he asked after a while, forcing himself to sound casually and thus not give the kwami any more reasons to pick up on his behaviour than what he already had. He was met with a wall of silence once again and this time, it made his blood run a little cold.

 _Easy there, Agreste_ , he chided himself impatiently. _Just because I acted like a fool last night doesn't mean Plagg should too, does it? He's here, somewhere. Here, in this room._

In this room, asleep or breakfasting, and _not_ gone to contact Ladybug and break it to her what an idiot his Chosen was. Not that she needed Plagg's record to know that.

Still, the silence continued to ring in his ears, to the point it became deafening. Adrien called for Plagg again, and then once more after that, simultaneously walking from one cupboard to another and peeking inside in his search of his friend.

Nothing.

He found nothing.

He bit his lip nervously, taking yet another look around and praying desperately that he wouldn't loose his cool.

Plagg wouldn't have... left him, right?

"Come on, Plagg, this isn't funny," he tried again. "And it's not the right time for joking around, either, even if the jokes were actually good. So, would you please act like the wise being you're supposed to be for once and come out before Nathalie walks in and find me searching for you? I really don't feel like having to explain _that_ to her too, on top of all things."

Again, his plea was not to be answered.

 _This is a nightmare_ , he thought to himself, coming to the conclusion that his father's assistant really might knock on his door any second and that he should at least make sure she didn't nail him talking to himself, and of his double life no less. _It must be, or else I've screwed up even more than I thought and there is nothing I can do about it. If he's gone to her... If he told her that I'd figured out her identity, then I'm done for. Even if she could somehow forgive me my outburst yesterday, she won't hold back from taking the miraculous away from me now that I've broken the one rule she was so hell bent to keep. Even if it was_ _ **her**_ _fault that I did._

Her fault.

Was it, really?

"It was," he droned, momentarily forgetting the resolution he had only just made. "I might have provoked her, _involuntarily_ , but she still was the one who told me all the information I needed for figuring it out. I stopped asking for it ages ago, right? _She_ was the one who said too much and now -"

He trailed off, as a feeling of a familiar presence came over him, and turned around abruptly, as if willing to nail the alleged culprit in the act (which honestly, he _did_ ). He wasn't disappointment in his discovery; even if he was surprised to see Plagg _this_ close to his face.

Automatically, he took a step back, and gasped.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Plagg greeted him indifferently, as if he hadn't been the reason for Adrien's frantic search.

The boy grimaced at him.

"You're here."

Plagg raised an eyebrow, amused. "Of course I'm here. Where else should I be?"

"I mean," Adrien repeated coldly, "that you are here now _._ That you're _back_."

"Back from where, kid?"

"That's exactly what I'd like to know."

Plagg didn't answer him directly, save for the very telling roll of his eyes and a weary sigh that escaped his tiny lips, together with an indistinct mutter in a language Adrien had never heard before. The misplaced behaviour only made his vexation grow, allowing the anger once again take place of the previous unrest and worry.

"Plagg? Tell me where you went last night."

"Why would you think I've gone anywhere, huh?" the kwami retorted loftily, clearly offended by the accusation; if Adrien had been in a slightly better mood right now, he might've felt guilty about jumping to conclusions so fast and even apologised his friend for it.

Unfortunately for both, he could hardly imagine being in a worse mood than the one he was currently in.

"You weren't here when I woke up and I couldn't find you after I'd got dressed, either," he responded mercilessly. "You are always hovering around me in the mornings, and I know for a fact that you'd never miss a chance to mess with me whenever I'm being a little more emotional than usual; and yet, I spent the morning talking to myself with no sly remarks disrupting it, when I'm sure you'd find something say about every single thought I'd voiced. And when I actually looked around, you _weren't there_."

"What if I decided to give you some space, huh?" Plagg refuted easily. "I'm not that unfeeling, and I'd say you of all people should know that. After all, I didn't really lecture you last night, did I? I _know_ when to shut up, kid. So if you could stop charging me and just -"

" _Where. Were. You_?"

Again, Plagg refrained from giving his answer, deciding to glare at Adrien instead, in the belief that the usually complaint boy would finally feel some of the remorse he should've felt and give up his questioning. It might not have been the noblest move to make, but Plagg honestly believed it was the right one in this context.

If only Adrien hadn't picked today to be a stubborn, ruthless, unwavering player for once.

"Fine!" the little creature exclaimed at last, with another roll of his eyes. "I might have gone out for a bit. You know, to get some fresh air. You can hardly blame me for wanting a little break after everything I had to deal with yesterday."

"I think you misunderstood my question. I already know that you _did_ go out. I want to know where to and _why_."

Plagg frowned and shrugged his arms. "Here and there. I didn't go far, if that's what you're afraid of."

"I don't know, honestly. I wouldn't say that the Dupain-Cheng bakery is exactly close, is it?"

 _Now_ he had Plagg's attention, and no mistake. He was not going to lose it.

"So you did go there," he mused with a sardonic grin, but in a voice that screamed of sadness. "You went to talk to her, to discuss my case and learn what to do next."

He paused, a painful lump rising in his throat and a new set off tears burning at the back of his eyes. He gritted his teeth and made sure to look squarely at Plagg when he concluded:

"You... you went to see Ladybug."

The fresh recollection of his Lady, together with the still unsettled knowledge of her and Marinette being one and the same person made his stomach twist in a tight knot, quite successfully ruining his attempt to remain collected and, at least in some way, appear intimidating to Plagg. The painful emotions came over him and he was forced to turn away before his companion could see the change of expression that was bound to come next.

The last thing he needed was for Plagg to go all caring and pitiful again.

He didn't even consider the scenario in which the kwami saw right through his defences and still took the opposite path to what Adrien had just predicted.

And yet, it was exactly what happened.

"Alright, so first of all, you must stop succumbing to the first supposition that comes to your mind whenever something goes wrong. Seriously, it's dangerous. And harmful. Not to mention, plain stupid, too," Plagg said after a while; it was his turn to sound stern. "It makes you believe the most pessimistic version of reality and lose sight of all other options, even when there are some. Second, it's a good thing that I already know how dumb you can be, otherwise I'd be more than just annoyed with how easily you accused me of abusing your trust in such a way. I _didn't_."

Adrien glanced at him, still sceptical about the explanation.

"You didn't visit Marinette?" he asked incredulously.

"Look, just because I was in Pigtail's bedroom does not mean I was visiting _her_ ," Plagg answered evenly. "I went to see Tikki and no one else. Your Marinette was fast asleep for the entire time I was there, not that I would have said anything to her if she hadn't been. So no need to panic, okay?"

Once again, Adrien found himself turning away, his movement more of a reflex than a conscious action.

"She's not _my_ Marinette," was all he could muster to say.

Again, Plagg had nothing left to do but sigh.

"I get it that you're angry. And sad. And more than a little confused, I bet," he offered after a moment, when he'd realised that Adrien was not going to add anything more. "It's hardly the ideal way to learn your partner's identity, with all the shouting and quarrelling you'd done right before. The fact that she still has no idea who _you_ are under the mask doesn't help the matter either, and don't even get me started about that darn love square you two had got yourself into. But you know what? It doesn't make you any less of a fool."

The last line made Adrien look up for a second, only to lower his gaze immediately after; he opened his mouth to respond, and yet, no sound came out.

Plagg only shook his head.

"Listen, Adrien. I've seen my share of Cats Noir and their Ladybugs as well, and even though there certainly were pairs whose relationship was much simpler - sometimes because they didn't know each other in their private life, or because they simply were not interested in one another in general - I could easily name a few for whom the situation was hell of a lot harder. You wouldn't believe how much so.

"Now, you're obviously hurt, and shocked, and no one can blame you for it. But kid, I've been there when a Cat Noir figured out Ladybug's identity at a wrong time and it cost him his life. Then there was a case when another Cat did, and it cost _hers_. Neither of them wanted to learn it. You _did_."

"I -"

"You _did_ ," Plagg repeated. "Ever since you two met, you've been going on about how she won't let you know her identity, showering me with arguments as for why you should share the secret. Last night you got your wish and it scared you; but can you honestly say you wish you didn't know?"

Adrien smiled wryly. "Well, considering how much hardship it caused for just one night, I can. I wish I hadn't learnt _anything_ she told me yesterday."

"Kid, you've finally figured out who your dream girl is, something you've been dreaming about for years. You also learnt that she is genuinely in love with you - better, that she had been for all this time. That the only reason why she was so adamant about rejecting you was because she chose _the other side of you_. And if that's not enough, she's also the girl you've considered a good friend for a very long time. You should be _thrilled_."

There was no response on Adrien's part.

No witty comment, no try to refute the argument.

No words.

Until...

"Perhaps," he whispered unexpectedly. "Perhaps I could be."

"C _ould_ be?"

"Yeah. I could be thrilled to know who she is. If only it was someone else under that mask."

He turned on his heel and set off towards his desk, intent to gather his belongings and leave the cursed room before Nathalie really did come to get him. The fact that she still hadn't come could only be an inclination how early it still was and yet, he suddenly felt like he had no time to spare before he suffocated.

His loyal companion watched after him, frozen in shock.

"You've learnt that Ladybug is Marinette and you're _disappointed_?!"

Adrien, who had just finished packing, slung his bag over his shoulder and glared.

"Yes. I am. You can figure out why yourself or contact Tikki for clues, for all I care. But either way, I'm done talking about it."

In a few long strides, he was out of the room, leaving Plagg all to himself.

It was all so wrong.


	6. We Need to Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't usually leave notes on AO3. However...  
> The previous chapter stirred such a storm that I feel I couldn't just ignore it.  
> So first - thank you! You have no idea how much it meant to me to see so many comments; so many people sharing their thoughts and feelings, discussing possibilities and trying to come up with an explanation for Adrien saying what he did, or to predict what might happen in the story next. To see you this involved...  
> It really warms my heart.
> 
> Now, I know it was unorthodox. It probably made some of you hate our sunshine boy a little, or at least feel disappointed with him. Still, it had to happen. There was no other way - ever since chapter 1, I wanted to make it clear that this is not your fluffy reveal fic, where all pieces come into place immediately and they all live happily ever after without having to go through some serious thinking (and talking) first. I don't wish to make it overly angsty or depressing, either; I simply believe that an emotional turmoil is exactly what Adrien would go through after learning Ladybug's identity, and especially in such unfavourable circumstances. 
> 
> It's not easy, it's not ideal. But please, bear with me until the end, so I can share with you all that I have to say on the subject. It all really is a part of a plan.
> 
> Thank you for being here for me.  
> Love, Bugaboo

The photo shoot was a catastrophe, no pun intended.

Not objectively; after all, the morning was clear, with no more than a few clouds passing over their heads and the warm September sun that had rose no more than an hour afore. The lightning was spot-on, the temperature pleasant, while the team began and finished their work enthusiastic, despite the early hour and the tight schedule they undoubtedly needed to follow.

Adrien was surrounded by competent yet friendly people, in a scenery that could be called nothing but soothing, and following instructions that turned out to be the simplest he'd faced in a while.

And yet, it was a catastrophe.

It was a disaster.

He wished he could blame it on the absurdly small amount of sleep which, by the way, was exactly the excuse he'd used whenever someone asked him if he really was feeling as well as he claimed to. He knew they would notice the change in him as soon as they laid eyes on him - after all, it was there job to ensure that his looks were impeccable and thus were more than critical about what they saw; and so instead of pretending there was no problem at all, he clung to the one cause that seemed both probable and safe.

He was grateful to see it work, when quite frankly, he'd been more than dubious about his success.

After all, the dark bags under his eyes that required much more make-up than usually were one thing - the hollow, unseeing gaze was something else entirely.

They seemed to have bought it, however and went on with their plan without as much as a comment about his obvious lack of professionalism (though he sure was going to hear about it at home). They did his hair and put on his make-up, dressed him up like the doll he was and placed him wherever they thought he looked best.

Again, none of it was bad; it was routine, that's all.

Business as usual, for everyone but him.

"So, how much longer before we can go home now?" Plagg asked with a yawn, sticking his head out of Adrien's bag and gazing at the boy expectantly. "I'm _hungry_. And keeping a kwami hungry is a risky move, kid."

Adrien glared down at him with a frown.

"Get back inside before someone notices you," he muttered under his breath, hiding his lips behind a water bottle, while he prayed inwardly that everyone was too busy to notice him having yet another conversation with his accessories. "Also, there were at least two whole rolls of camembert in my bag, it should've kept you full for a day."

"Yeah, there were three actually. I ate all of it."

"All of it?"

"Look, it's not my fault I have a fast metabolism."

"You have an eating disorder, that's what you have. It's an addiction that I shouldn't encourage," Adrien was relentless. "What's more important, however, is that the amount packed is exactly what you usually need, so I don't understand how you could devour it so quickly. And I haven't even transformed today!"

"You did last night, though, didn't you? And given the emotional state you were in for most of that hellish patrol, you can be sure it wasn't exactly the time of _my_ life, either. I don't remember you feeding me any cheese after we'd come home and since I _can_ be considerate and tactful, I didn't treat myself with any while trying to talk to you. Oh, and I don't think I've had a chance to have a proper breakfast in the morning, with you storming out of the room like you did, only to wait for Nathalie for twenty minutes because - surprise, surprise! - we were there _too early_."

Adrien snorted discreetly.

"You could have very well had that meal after I'd gone to sleep," he answered viciously. "It's not _my_ fault that you've decided to flee the moment I did, and for reasons you can't even explain to me."

"Pettiness doesn't suit you, kid," Plagg retorted calmly. "Also, I didn't _flee_. And surely not immediately after you'd gone to bed."

"That's not the point here."

"No. The point is that you're still mad and you're blaming everyone but yourself for it."

Adrien's glare grew even more steely. "Only yesterday you were talking about how I can't take all the blame and now you're giving me this?"

"Yes."

"You're contradicting yourself, Plagg."

"Not if I mean you should stop looking for the guilty party in general," was his companion's even answer. "Also, I think your make-up lady is coming."

He was gone before Adrien could utter a single syllable, hidden at the very bottom of the bag, safe from the curious eyes of said lady as well as the the young model's glares. Adrien sighed deeply and raised his hand to rub his face wearily - and then put it back down, remembering all the beauty products that were currently covering his face.

Smearing it all over his face right in front of the make-up director was hardly a good idea.

The shoot continued for a little more than an hour after that. When it finally finished, Adrien was sure he had never been this exhausted after so little work in his life, and that there was absolutely no exaggeration on his part in that regard; so when he was, at long last, told that it was all, he felt like he could quite literally kiss the photo shoot director in thanks for that news. That, or to crash on the ground and fall asleep that very second.

Considering that the director was about three times his age, the second option was far closer to his wish.

Still, as alluring as taking his nap right there and then was, Adrien stood firmly, determined not give the team any more reasons to worry - or worse, to call his father and ask him for the cause of his son's awful state.

So now he was back on the bench, pretending to be reading his history textbook, while he waited for the Gorilla to pick him up. He was aware of the glances and smirks (as well as the few awed sighs) he'd thus provoked, knowing full well that people expected him to fiddle with his phone rather than study, and especially in such a busy, noisy place. Not to mention, after the work he'd just done.

And yet, just this once, he wasn't in the least tempted to look at the device.

"You sure you don't need to check that?" Plagg asked in a dramatic whisper, as if he knew that he was supposed to be hiding but at the same time realised that his voice wouldn't have been heard in the mix of sounds around them. "Your phone's buzzed about ten times so far. Doesn't that mean it's something important?"

"No, it just means that Nino still hasn't learnt to write long messages and texted me a bunch of short ones instead," Adrien replied with an impatient sigh.

Gosh, just let him study.

"I know you're not reading this anyway, so you may as well drop the act and focus on me."

The glare Adrien gave him in response truly was a murderous one. "What have I told you about reading my thoughts?"

"You asked me not to do it, and I'm _not_. But I don't need to, either. It's written all across your face."

The boy let out a growl. One of his fellow models, who happened to be passing by on that exact moment winced, taken aback. She glanced down at him with an odd look on her countenance.

Adrien wanted to curl up and die.

"Sorry," he mumbled, fixing his eyes on the book in his hands, praying that the girl wouldn't linger around and just moved on with her undoubtedly more interesting life.

Luckily for him, she shrugged and did just that.

Adrien sighed again, and this time it was full of relief. Maybe it was a good thing that the fashion industry was were all kinds of eccentrics gathered.

At least no one paid attention to all the weird things _he_ did.

He shifted his gaze to the textbook once more, determined to actually read the words printed on its pages, no matter how many more disruptions might come in a way. He was _not_ going to look at his phone; he was _not_ going to look around, searching for his bodyguard. And he sure as hell wasn't going to give Plagg the satisfaction of meeting his imploring stare again.

_As if that changed anything._

Yet, he was to be unmoved. Despite the feeling of his kwami's gaze burning on his side as well as the noise said kwami was making (purposefully, no doubt), he didn't even stir, all the more intent on looking unfazed. He moved the book a little closer and pushed his bag under the bench with his foot without as much as peeking at it. He turned the page with the same fake-serene expression reflecting on his face.

He was fine, he was cool. There was no reason why he shouldn't be.

He was -

"I think Marinette is calling you, kid."

He was none of these things.

Several things happened at once then. The textbook Adrien was holding so firmly suddenly fell out of his grasp and landed next to his feet, only to be accidentally kicked away by him when he stood up rapidly and turned towards Plagg with the same violence characterising his moves. His eyes were wide with shock as he stared down at his bag; his hand shook when he reached out for it and took out the phone which, to his surprise, showed no sign of missed calls.

The few messages from Nino - ones he had already expected - were all he could see on the screen.

And yet, his heart was beating fast, his body stiff while he simultaneously felt trembling inside. With his gaze fixed on the phone and blood pumping in his ears, he nearly missed it when Plagg quietly cleared his throat.

Nearly.

Adrien looked at his companion and realised that what he'd been told was a lie, a ploy meant to provoke a reaction on his part. He frowned, annoyed and opened his mouth to scold the kwami for playing tricks on him in this way; yet, Plagg clearly wasn't going to let him beat him to it.

"I think we need to talk, kid," he said with a mixture of gravity and firmness. "And _now_."

Adrien couldn't help but swallow painfully.

He was screwed.

  
  


They _didn't_ talk, however, and not due to Adrien's reluctance towards the subject. He was not going to give in to Plagg's suggestion of course (which, considering his deadly glare and infinite power of destruction, was more of a threat, really), not without putting some fight first, anyway; though he also realised that such a fight could not be of much use when his friend was so intent to have that conversation.

The very thought of having it made Adrien dizzy.

He was rescued by the sudden arrival of his bodyguard, who pulled up not a moment after Plagg had uttered the damning sentence. Aware as he was that this barely meant pushing the dreaded talk away for a while, Adrien couldn't help but sigh in relief, silently vowing to repay the Gorilla whenever he got the chance.

Now, however...

"Sweet block of cheese, I thought that ride would never end," Plagg said, once again making sure that his yawn would be heard just as much as the note of boredom that resonated in his voice. "To think that today of all days would be when we got caught in a traffic jam."

"It wasn't that bad," Adrien contradicted him, before glancing at his watch. "We're still earlier than I thought we'd be. Not as early as to make it to the current class... but enough to be left waiting for the next one to start. We've got about twenty minutes until that."

"Oh, now that's _fantastic_. You can finally tell me all the things I need to know without the risk of anyone overhearing."

Adrien set off towards the entrance with a grunt. "I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"And I told you that I didn't care about your whims."

"What about my needs then? And weren't you supposed to be nice and tactful for once?"

"I'm always concerned about your needs, kid," Plagg retorted with renewed seriousness. "Which is precisely why we must talk; preferably _before_ you walk inside and run into someone."

_Before you run into Marinette_ , Adrien's mind readily supplied.

He wanted to bang his head against the door.

"Do we really have to?" he asked weakly, with his hand frozen on the doorknob and his forehead really coming close to resting against the wooden surface. "Will it really change anything?"

"It's not about changing anything, Adrien."

"What _is_ it about, then? What's the point in going back to it, in reliving that horrendous time once again, if it's not going to make things better? Do you really just want to drag me through the mud so I remember how awfully I reacted last night?"

Plagg landed on his hand and shook his head with conviction.

"You know I don't. But there are things you should face before meeting up with anyone. Things you should think through before anyone asks you about them."

"All I've done since we quarrelled was think things through, Plagg," Adrien contradicted him. "Also, it's not exactly like I can talk about this entire situation with anyone without revealing my superhero alter ego, which we know isn't an option. If anything, I should come up with a good excuse for feeling unwell, but then again, if the make-up crew bought the one about lack of sleep, there's no reason to believe that Nino or Alya won't."

"And what about Marinette?" Plagg suggested with a meaningful look.

"Well, she will have to accept it, too," Adrien as much as spat, a new, sudden wave of anger overcoming him against his expectations or will. "Just because I've figured out her identity doesn't mean I'll share mine with her at the first given opportunity. Not to mention, I hardly feel like having _her_ comfort me right now. Maybe it's unfair, maybe it's rude; but I just _can't_ talk to her today."

"Yeah. Because you're _disappointed_ it's turned out to be her."

Suddenly, all reluctance on Adrien's part was gone.

If that's how Plagg wanted to play it, then so be it.

He wasn't going to run anymore.

"Okay, you wanna talk? Fine," he agreed out of the blue. "I'll tell you everything you want to know and explain everything you can't grasp on your own. We'll find a place to hide until the next lesson starts and talk for as long as the time allows. In return, you'll promise me to stop nagging me about it later on. And I mean it: no sly questions, no meaningful looks and certainly no suggestions that I should go speak to Marinette about _anything_."

Plagg allowed himself to smile wearily.

"I can work with that," he consented eagerly. "So long as you don't hold back, either."

"I won't," was all Adrien cared to say, before finally pushing the door open and entering the hall.

Plagg followed right behind.


	7. The Iceberg

"I think it's going to rain."

Adrien's voice was calm when he uttered the words, his gaze fixed on the still blue sky above his head as he noted the clouds that were slowly starting to take over it. He heard Plagg snicker quietly, undoubtedly in response to his comment, and glanced down at the kwami as the latter munched on a piece of cheese they had – miraculously – found in Adrien's bag right after entering the school grounds.

Think of it, Plagg probably had known about it being there all along.

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brain once again betraying him as the image of a dark-haired girl in ponytails appeared in his mind once more, regardless of his tries to push it away. He had hoped he could do that for a little longer, at least until Plagg finished with his meal – clearly though, it was still too much to ask for.

He shook his head and looked around, deciding to at least organise his tangled thoughts before he was forced to open up before Plagg. He knew there was no escaping it now; so perhaps, the best he could do was to find a way of presenting his reasoning in a way that would leave no room for doubts on his companion's part.

Seeing how Plagg was still happily occupied with his cheese, he still had a few moments to figure things out.

Refraining from yet another sigh, Adrien frowned pensively, trying to come up with a plan for his unwanted (yet necessary) speech. The circumstances seemed favourable for once, with the warm spring breeze coming in place of the sterile, cold air of his own room and the noisiness of the photo shoot set replaced by the quietness that marked their current spot. No Nathalie, no Gorilla, no make-up or photography directors.

This time Adrien couldn't help but smile weakly to himself. Indeed, it would have been a real miracle to have any of them follow him all the way _up here_.

Maybe there were some perks of being a superhero, after all.

"You know I can still listen to you with my mouth full, right?" he heard Plagg ask mockingly, a note of suppressed laughter clearly audible in his tone. "I don't use my ears for eating."

Adrien raised an eyebrow at him, his own smile unwavering.

"Is that so?" it was his turn to ask. "I've always thought you put your whole body and soul into this particular action. After all, you're the one who keeps reminding me how important it is to savour one's meal. _Especially_ when it's cheese."

"Not just any cheese, kid. We're talking about camembert here," Plagg responded after another big gulp.

"My point exactly, isn't it? And since I'd hate to disturb you during such a life-altering event..."

"As if you hadn't done that on multiple occasions so far..."

"This, as well as the fact that I obviously need your undivided attention during the conversation you insisted upon so relentlessly, are the reasons why I'm waiting for you to finish in your own time. There is no need to rush."

"Okay, okay, that's it," Plagg cut him off decisively, leaving his place and floating up to Adrien's eye level. "I can see what you're doing, trying to put it off so that we don't have enough time to talk it through before your next class starts. Well, let me tell you this, kid: you're not going _anywhere_ until we're done talking."

"Now _that_ was never the deal," Adrien responded firmly, however as of now, there was no trace of annoyance in his voice. "And you know perfectly well that I can't skip any more classes, even though I honestly wish I could. Also... It was not what I was thinking about."

"What was it then?"

"You want answers to your questions. I think the only way that makes sense it if they are throughout, too."

For reasons not entirely fathomable to Adrien, Plagg refrained from his next comment, even though it was obvious that he'd had more than a few words to say. The determined look in his kwami's eyes didn't fade, either, and yet, it was exactly what made Adrien's serenity grow, as he could once again witness the excess of his tiny companion's mindfulness and cool.

He might have been a source of destruction in the magical sense, and still, Adrien couldn't imagine him ever truly hurting him – and not only because he was Plagg's so-called master.

It really was time to show that their loyalty and trust went both ways.

"I need you to promise me that you won't interrupt, no matter how many times I trail off or get stuck," he said in a quiet voice, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. "I don't fully understand all this myself, and even if I did, it would be hard to put all of those feelings into words. So... be patient with me, okay?"

A part of him expected to Plagg to disagree, or to at least treat him with some witty remark about how their time together was limited by Adrien's upcoming class. He was to be surprised again, however, as Plagg simply nodded in confirmation, giving him to understand that he comprehended and accepted the rule bestowed on him.

No, not a rule.

Just a request.

"I know there's only one thing you really want to hear, so I won't dodge the subject by talking about something else. Especially as it really is the only one that matters," he begun with as much calmness as he could summon. "I think so, anyway. So, as difficult as it is for me to bring it up, it's probably best if I just up and do it. I..."

He bit his lip anxiously but refused to close his eyes. Scared as he was, imperfect as he was, he at least wasn't going to act like a coward.

He was Cat Noir, for Fu's sake.

"I told you I was disappointed when I'd found out it was Marinette under Ladybug's mask. That it had _always_ been her. I know it sounds cruel and unjust – that it's something that Felix might have said in my position, but which I had no right to say. And yet, it's true."

He could feel cold sweat break over his neck and go down his back, regardless of how early he was into his story. He swallowed painfully, but refused to give in to the anxiety.

"You probably think it makes no sense, either. She's my friend, a very dear one. I've always wanted to be closer to her, because I realised what a wonderful person she was under all of that stammering and clumsiness she seemed to hide behind. I wished she had acted towards me in the same way she did with Alya or Nino, or any of our classmates, really – the way she acted around Cat Noir, even if she was supposedly in love with him that one time. To learn that all this time, she has also been Ladybug...

"It hurts, Plagg. It just does. Partly because it shows how arrogant I've been, how stupidly naive to think I should recognise her the moment I laid eyes on her – that my heart would know the truth even if my eyes and brain were fooled. To realise that she's been there all this time is like a punch in the guts and one that I've deserved because heck, how could I have been so cocky? I failed to recognise the girl I loved in the one I saw each day; I couldn't see my darling friend in the partner I cared for so much. I literally met Ladybug's civilian self _a day after_ I'd met her superhero one, and still couldn't make the connection between them.

"So there's that part. I _am_ disappointed in myself for not having noticed that earlier. And yet... That's not even the tip of the iceberg."

He shifted slightly, just enough to press his forehead against his knees as he took a deep, shaking breath. It was all so difficult; so horribly terrifying while also entirely unexpected.

He told himself he should be alright talking about it, after so many hours of pondering over the situation he had found himself in. The time distancing him from his discovery wasn't short either: it wasn't a minute, a quarter or three. It had been full twelve hours, ten of which he'd spent torn between denying all his knowledge and tearing it to pieces in search of an explanation he had missed before.

Ten hours of pure hell and more than a dozen resolutions made along the way.

How come it still felt as if he'd only found out?

"Breath, kid," he heard Plagg say, in a voice so completely void of audacity that Adrien couldn't help but look up, surprised. "Just breathe, in and out. It's okay."

So he did just that. Inhale, exhale, with his gaze glued to Plagg as the kwami swung his tiny arm in order to dictate the correct rhythm. Once again, he was taken aback not only by his friend's obvious concern but also the enormous gentleness he displayed – a feature so different from his usual sassiness that Adrien had some trouble wrapping his head around it at first.

"Leave my personality traits be, Adrien, and just focus on your breathing," Plagg muttered grumpily. "We've got enough to deal with without you suffocating on the edge of the school roof, simply because you can't take in your oxygen properly."

"I thought I'd asked you not to listen to my thoughts?" the boy asked automatically, but this time, reproach did not resonate in his voice; if anything, it was cheerful. "I haven't got completely crazy, you know, I can still distinguish the things I say from the ones I've been wondering at. And I _know_ I haven't said anything out loud just now."

"Well, I hate to break it to you but your inner monologues can be as loud as mayor Burgeois' outright speeches," Plagg responded readily. "I really don't have to try to hear any of it, especially if you're thinking about _me_. And just so you know, today isn't the only instance when that happened."

To that Adrien could only respond with a chuckle. With his face still pressed against his knees and his grip around his legs tightening, his shoulders shook nonetheless. It wasn't a loud, sonorous laughter; it couldn't haven been one. Yet, it was sincere – and that was the most they could count on now.

"Thanks, Plagg," he said after a moment and raised his head just enough to meet his loyal friend with his eyes. "You really have a way of dealing with depression, I must give you that."

"Experience, kid," Plagg responded shortly. "If you'd had to deal with as many Black Cat wielders as I did, you too would've figured it out. You're certainly not the first Chat Noir who's got himself into this kind of mess."

"You mean, I'm not the first one to fall in love with a Ladybug who then fell in love with my civilian self?" Adrien asked almost casually. However, his smile soon grew sorrowful as he recalled some of the words Plagg had thrown at him earlier that day, words that he had chose to push aside at the time but which now came back to him with double force.

He felt like the knowledge of it could make him implode.

"Did it really happen?" he asked quietly, fixing his gaze on the horizon ahead. "Have there really been reveals that ended up in the Miraculous Holders' deaths?"

He did not dare too look down at Plagg, certain that the amount of pain his question must have caused would reflect all over the kwami's little body. He felt bad for provoking such hurt; he wondered if keeping his eyes away from his friend was really a sign of discretion or just the cowardice he'd been trying to avoid all this time.

Something was telling him that he shouldn't have asked and yet, how could he not? The matter was too grieve to just let it slide.

Plus, it was Plagg who'd brought it up in the first place.

Clearly, the kwami wasn't going to back down now, either.

"It did happen," he said calmly, in the same tone he might use for commenting on the weather; taken aback, Adrien couldn't have helped to glance at him, even if he'd wanted to. "It were just a few cases, all of them happening a long time ago. Well, _one_ of them was recent, at least if you look at it holistically. Still, regardless of _when_ it happened, it was always during the toughest of times. Times when your dealings with Hawkmoth would have been considered a child's play at best."

"Well, at least there's that," Adrien whispered, shifting his gaze to the passing clouds once more. "One thing less to worry about. For now, anyway."

"Well, _now_ is the only period you should concern yourself with at the moment," Plagg responded firmly. "Here and now, and only the situation involving you."

"I don't want to just disregard it though, I -"

"Adrien? Just focus on your own iceberg. We can have that history lesson at some less troubling time."

Adrien could not disagree with the suggestion. He knew Plagg was right: he'd had a lot to deal with on his own without the additional burden of the past heroes' struggles and pain, especially as he also realised that no wisdom would come to him by hearing about them now. It would have helped to fight his curiosity when he had still endeavoured to find out who his Lady really was; it might have been a good means to stop him whenever his eagerness had become a threat to both of them. Now however...

It could no longer be of use.

"My own iceberg. Right."

When Plagg had mentioned the other Miraculous Holders that morning, it hadn't been to make him feel miserable or go into mourning after the people he had never even heard of before. The reason for the unexpected trip into the past had been a very simple one: namely, to make him aware of how much better his own situation truly was.

To make him realise that he really had no reasons to complain – no reasons to feel disappointed.

_Disappointed._

Dear Heavens, it must have sounded so wrong; and yet, he still couldn't find it in himself to deny that earlier statement of his.

Suppose the only thing he could do now was to explain what he'd really had in mind, even if he himself wasn't entirely sure what it was.

"She's in love with me," he said simply at last, swiftly coming to the conclusion that pouring out his heart was his best shot at the time, as there was no guarantee that his so-called reorganisation would bring any results. "Ladybug is in love with me. The _Adrien_ me. And it's not a shallow celebrity crush, it's not a silly infatuation developed over the few times she's met me outside the Cat Noir suit. She knows me, she cares for me. Not the image. _Me_."

He paused for a second, puzzled. It wasn't that he didn't know what to say next or what words to use to make it most meaningful – rather, he knew _exactly_ what it was, but because of it, he also perfectly conscious of the fact that it was by far the most difficult thing for him to say.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Speak.

"Ladybug is in love with me," he picked up at long last. " _Ladybug_ is _in love_ with _me_. And she's Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Which means..."

He allowed himself one last break to summon his strength before finally addressing the issue that had been the real cause of that inner conflict of his, the one idea that lay at the bottom of all this.

"It means that _Marinette_ is in love with me, too."

Suddenly, it was as if a weight had been lifted, leaving him freer and calmer than he had been since he had first found out about Ladybug's feelings last night. He wasn't bold – or stupid – enough to believe that anything was solved or that the crisis had been overcome in any way. More like, he had taken the first step on yet another rocky path which, as challenging as it undoubtedly was, was still a much better option than the comfortable yet stifling prison he'd been locked in so far.

Now all he had to do was to keep going.

And yet, it was still so hard.

"Why didn't she tell me, Plagg?" he asked after a moment, as he hid his face in his knees and gritted his teeth angrily. "Like, I can understand her being shy and all. I probably should have been more observant and picked some of the hints. But still... We've been friends for more than two years now and she has _never_ made any direct comment about it – if anything, she flat out _denied it_.

"And it wasn't just once, you know," he continued after a short pause. "When Jagged & Co. stormed into her bedroom and made a show of those photographies, I thought for a moment that there really might have been something going on. I didn't really believe in Jagged's suppositions... But it was impossible to just ignore it. That is, until Marinette cleared it up by saying that it was all about her love of fashion which, given the esteem she obviously holds my father in, was really not that unbelievable at the time, whatever some might say.

"But that's just the beginning of it, isn't it? I can still remember when Manon brought the photos up again during our drive to the museum that other day. I thought I knew the reason for it, so I didn't care much – and even her mentions of 'hearts drawn all around the pictures' seemed meaningless, especially with Marinette 'explaining' that right after.

"It was supposed to be such a great day, too, you know. Just the five of us – four and a half, really – hanging out together on a Saturday afternoon. Friends being friends, unlike what we usually were. Unlike what I was usually allowed to be."

Another pause, another deep breath. Another retardation in his ludicrous story, as he tried to find the strength within himself to go on despite the throbbing of his heart and the stinginess in his eyes. The clock was ticking; and he was not even halfway through his speech.

And he absolutely refused to split it and return to it afterwards.

He needed to finish it in one go, or he never would.

"Anyway," he said. "As you probably recall, it wasn't a great day at all, and not because of the akuma attack that had resulted from that meeting. Marinette was tense, I was confused; and then that stupid joke made everything a thousand times worse. And yet... That's not the point."

"What is, then?" Plagg allowed himself to reply at last. "You won't tell me that you think the prank was alright all of the sudden, will you?"

Adrien shook his head.

"The joke was dumb and I shouldn't have made it. However, it doesn't change the fact that it had led to the first bit of honest conversation between us that day. Or at least, it might have done, if only Marinette hadn't made that U-turn the moment I asked her about what she'd really meant when she'd confessed to the statue.

"She... She could have told me the truth then. I didn't expect another heartfelt, flowery confession; in fact, I don't think I expected anything specific at the time. But... Would it have been so very bad for her to admit that it wasn't entirely fake? To say: 'Yes, I was serious' when I asked her about it straightforwardly? A 'yes', Plagg. That was all I needed to hear.

"And yet, she went into straight denial mode. 'It was a prank,' she said. 'I like you a little', 'like an ordinary human being'. Those were her words. How on _earth_ was I supposed to believe she wanted anything other than friendship after a show of this kind?"

It was Plagg's turn to shake his head. "Do you really want an answer to that?"

Adrien looked up, surprised.

"Can you give me one?"

Plagg sighed lingeringly.

"I can," he admitted. "Or at least, I can suggest something that should help you come to the right conclusions. The question is: do you really want that?"

"How could I _not_?"

"Just this morning you said you wished you hadn't learnt any of the things about Ladybug that you had learnt last night. This might be a similar case; I thought it's better not to risk and make sure you know what you're asking for."

Once again, Adrien's forehead was pressed firmly against his knees.

"I do," he replied. "What's done is done. And I need some answers if I'm to ever make any sense out of all this. And since that's something that I know for sure I want to do -"

"Alright. Then you should probably think of Kagami's place and role in this mayhem."

Adrien's head shot up abruptly, and the rest of his body nearly followed suit. He gazed at his kwami with a frantic, searching gaze; his eyes, wide with surprise skimmed Plagg's, boring into his little face with a look of absolute lack of understanding on his own.

Plagg raised an eyebrow, allowing himself a small, lopsided grin.

"Yes, kid," he said. "Keep those cogs turning. I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough if only you try."

Adrien frowned in response, unamused. "I don't need more time to understand what you mean. But..."

"But: what?"

"But it doesn't make any sense," Adrien explained, turning away, his gaze now fixed on the school courtyard below them. "Marinette was always the first to support me whenever Kagami was concerned. She helped me set up that disastrous skating date. She made sure that Kagami could see her as friend. And when we... When we started dating later on, she never showed any signs of being uncomfortable or disappointed about it. And then there was Luka."

Plagg snickered. "Yeah. _After_ you'd got together with the Tsurugi girl."

"Marinette had _advised_ me about her! She'd agreed to come with us to the rink as soon as I told her about the plan. And she took Luka with her, even though it was _months_ before Kagami and I began dating for real."

"Well, yes," Plagg agreed, though Adrien knew there was a 'but' coming with it; he was not wrong. "Still, it was _after_ you'd mentioned going out with her."

Adrien's voice caught in his throat as dozens of images came rushing through his mind, proving that each and every word of Plagg's interpretations was was not only correct, but also fully and entirely logical.

And it _sucked_.

He shouldn't have been able to recall any of them, and yet, he did. The change of expression on Marinette's face after he'd told her whom he'd had in mind, going from giddy to confused, to wistful (it was the same shift that he had noticed in her during their ride back home from the museum, actually, even though he hadn't known that at the time); her hasty escape from the rink, when he had followed her to make sure she was okay; the look of uneasiness when he and Kagami had come to visit the Couffaines, right before Desperada stroke.

He remembered hanging out with both of the girls before the whole Miracle Queen nightmare, having the time of his life until all of the sudden, Marinette was no longer there.

And he had hardly even noticed.

"This can't be true," he muttered desperately, rubbing his hands against his face. "She was a friend. The first one I've ever had save for Chloe, but at the same time, the most amazing, most inspiring, most caring friend. A friend, who -"

"I swear, kid, you call her your friend once more and I'll leave you here on this roof."

"No, you don't understand," Adrien opposed Plagg's comment, the unsettling note of terror resonating in his voice and growing more audible by the second. "You've always picked on me for calling her that but that's exactly the way I saw her, because... Because I was so sure that was exactly how she saw _me_. As her _friend_."

Once again, his gaze became hollow, and he buried his fingers in his hair, fighting the urge to pull the blond locks out in a quite literal sense. He glanced at Plagg; he turned away again. He closed his eyes, shut them _tight_ as he slouched, no longer caring if his behaviour was or wasn't a cowardly one.

He needed to find a way out of this pit, and he hadn't got the slightest idea were to start.

"A friend or not, you still chose Kagami over her," he heard Plagg say, his voice as muffled and distant as if they'd been separated by a ten inch glass at least.

It was a voice of reason and Adrien knew it; and yet, it provoked nothing but a new wave of anger on his part; and so when Plagg opened his mouth to add something, the boy next to him did the only thing left to do.

He snapped.

"Do you really think I would've chased after Kagami if I'd known Marinette was an option?"

Silence fell over them then, and this time, it lasted. Adrien's hands were still pressed against his scalp, pulling on his hair in a desperate manner, but at the same time feeling too numb to even acknowledge the pain he should have felt. The situation that had seemed so unbelievable from the start now turned out to be straight-up surreal, not to say – _absurd_.

Not a quarter ago he'd been surprised to see that the few hours of thinking had not been enough for him to comprehend the events he'd witnessed – now he realised that he could spend another month on it, and he still wouldn't have reached even the most basic understanding of it.

It was simply too much for him to deal with.

"So _that's_ what it is about."

He raised his head at Plagg’s words, not even sure what he was expecting to see next. Was Plagg going to pick on him again? Or would he continue to play the part of a consoler, remaining gentle and understanding towards him, just like he had been so many times that day?

Well, teasing or not, Adrien had learnt by now that Plagg had only ever meant well – as long as he was concerned, anyway. And given the emotional state he was in, it was all that mattered right now.

There was one thing he hadn't foreseen, however.

It was a look of pure shock.

"What?" he asked promptly, seeing that very expression reflect all over his kwami’s little face. "Don't you dare act all surprised now. I bet you're dying to treat me with another _I told you so_ , so you may as well say it now. Go on, let's get it over with."

"I'm not acting, Adrien," Plagg replied. "And I'm not going to say that."

"Why not?"

"Because that would mean I'd seen this coming when I can honestly promise you that I _didn't_. I knew Marinette was Ladybug, yes. I did think that your calling her your friend was always a sort of a defending mechanism of yours, provoked by the fact that you were determined to remain faithful the spotted version of her. Hearing you admit that you _were_ interested in Marinette... Well, that's another pile of cheese."

"You were the one who nagged me about giving her a chance!" Adrien answered angrily. "When she said she was in love with Chat Noir, you were the first to advocate her case. And even though you made fun of that unsigned valentine I got, you still brought it up like some magic talisman to cure me from my love for Ladybug. And -"

"And no matter how hard I tried, it always turned out futile."

"Yes. Because I never had a reason to believe that I actually stood a chance."

Another long sigh escaped his lips, while he prayed internally that Plagg would not contradict this final statement as well. He was so tired, so terribly, terribly run down that he really could fall off the roof he was seated at and not realise what happened until he was halfway through his descent – and yet, he was also acutely aware of how far he was from rest.

How much more there was to be said.

He gritted his teeth and kicked the airs at the realisation, the feeling of utter helplessness taking over him. This conversation was supposed to be beneficial to him, even if not in the direct way. He had not expected it to be comforting, no; but he'd hoped it would at least allow him to cleanse his head at least.

That by answering Plagg's questions, he would also answer some of his own.

However, all it did was hurt and confuse him more. The thought of Marinette having feelings for him has been mind-blowing from the start – and yet, Plagg's suggestion about her hiding them because of _Kagami_ of all people was a turn could not have anticipated.

_How_ would it have played out if he'd known about it before?

"Listen, Plagg," he picked up again after a moment, once more deciding to just lay it all out in the open now and overthink it later. "It's not... It's not like I _am_ in love with her. Or that I _was_ at any other time, for that matter. You know that the main reason why things didn't work with Kagami was because I was still head over heels with Ladybug, so... So it probably would've been just the same with Marinette, as up until last night they had been two different people as far as I'd known. But I can't know for sure, right? I mean, she _is_ important to me, she's always been... She's smart and funny and kind – In fact, she's about the most selfless person I've ever met in my life, which is all the more true if your suspicion about her cheering for Kagami and me despite her own feelings is correct. So maybe... Maybe..."

"Maybe you could've fallen for her after all, too."

Adrien groaned and fell down on his back, his legs still dangling from the edge of the roof. He wanted to punch the air above him or better yet, the hard surface he was lying on; to yell with all his might, so that the frustration in him would finally find a vent.

For a split second he wondered if someone _would_ hear him if he'd done that.

"Perhaps I could," he moaned instead. "Even if she wasn't Ladybug, it still might've happened. You know, just because it didn't really click with Kagami doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't be different with someone else! And since Marinette is _very_ different from her, it's more probable than not."

"Mhmm. Not to mention that she _is_ Ladybug."

"It's not like she acts like her, though," the boy mused. "I know now that her shyness around me was caused by... very specific reasons, and even before that, I'd suspected that it's not her typical behaviour. I wasn't _that_ blind after all; I saw the way she interacted with other people around her, and not only the ones closest to her. She _can_ be confident and not only with the people she likes, or people she knows or, I don't know, just girls. There were moments when she was like that with _me_. And still, it wasn't enough for me to recognise Ladybug in her. Because it's still not exactly how Ladybug is."

"You're one too talk," Plagg answered with a grin after landing on his Chosen's chest. "I don't think the differences between your precious Bug and her civilian self are half as significant as the change you go through every time _you_ transform."

"It doesn't change the fact that I still have trouble blending those two girls into one in my mind."

"Look, kid. That list of qualities you've just enumerated? To me, that's Ladybug's character to a t. And from what I remember, you _did_ point out the similarities between the girls at least once."

Adrien raised his head a little to look his kwami in the eye, surprised. "I don't recall doing that."

"You _did_ call her your everyday Ladybug, didn't you?"

His eyes widened a little at the indication; he regarded his companion for a while as the words sunk into his brain, the smug grin on Plagg's face making him feel even more of an idiot now. With another groan, he let his head bump against the roof once more.

There really was something wrong with him.

"I did. Gosh, I _did_ ," he whined. "And you heard me say it when you'd already learnt her identity yourself. You've known all along and haven't said a _word_."

"Hey, I had no right to do that. And as you've already pointed out today, I did all I could to have you realise it on your own."

"Except that time when I nearly _did_ figure it out when Kwamibuster attacked and you made sure I stopped thinking about it before I did for real."

"I didn't mean realising she was Ladybug, you moron. Just that she's the girl you can love and be loved back by her."

Adrien opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of a bell going off on the school corridors. So he sat up and rubbed his eyes, his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to decide on what he should do next.

"I'm not ready for this," he said quietly. "I thought I would be, especially after talking to you, but somehow it only got _worse_ , and now all I want is to transform back and run away, as far as possible from this place. _Can I_ run away from this place?"

"I think you know the answer to that, kid," Plagg responded with a wink as he flew up to rustle the boy's hair. "Though you certainly will have to transform if you want to get down from this rooftop in time. Or any time at all."

Adrien smiled weakly, but his voice trembled when he answered, "I'm a little afraid that I may not be able to fight off the temptation once I'm suited up. I really don't want to see her right now. I don't think I _can_ see her and not flee on the spot."

Plagg shook his head.

"There's no way you can avoid that now. That is, unless she's not at school, due to some terrible events that happened to her last night... But you won't know that until you get down."

"Now that's reassuring," Adrien muttered under his breath. Determined to ignore his kwami's sneers, he stood up and, after making sure he really was out of everyone's sight, he said the only words left to say.

"Plagg, claws out."

Not a minute later he was quietly sneaking into his locker room, transformed back to his very civilian self and pretending that he really had just entered the school grounds.

Meanwhile, his whole soul burned.

He was so going to regret going back.


	8. An Assault

Now, there were few things Adrien _was_ ready for, when he left the locker room at last and headed towards the stairs that led to Miss Bustier's classroom.

First, after the disastrous photo shoot that morning, he knew better than to pretend to be completely alright – he was well aware that he'd looked like a shadow of his usual self ever since he'd first got up that day, as well as he must have looked about a dozen times worse after the conversation he'd just had with Plagg. For that reason, he was perfectly prepared for the questions considering his well-being and so when Nathaniel treated him with one, he smiled reassuringly and replied that it was all due to a rather tough, sleepless night.

So yeah, that was one.

He also realised – that was the second, much more anxiety-causing thing – that he would have to face Marinette as soon as he stepped over the classroom's threshold, as she usually stayed inside during the breaks, unless of course she was bound to change rooms. The thought of seeing her for the first time since last night still made his head spin; yet even though he still had no idea what to say to her or how to behave, he at least knew what level of emotionality he'd be in when they'd finally meet face to face.

He didn't know if he'd be sad or angry or maybe even relieved by the sight of her: she'd always been too unpredictable, as was the effect she'd always had on _him_ , be it intentional or not. The only thing he could be certain of was that the encounter was sure as hell going to leave him _confused._

It wasn't much, but at least it was _something_.

What he had _not_ expected however, was being ambushed by a furious Alya the moment his foot had moved away from the final step of the stairs as she pinned him to the railing with her arms set firmly on both sides of him. His eyes widened in shock and then grew wider still when he met her vicious glare – and not even the arrival of Nino a second later was enough to make him calm down.

Quite frankly, at the moment he was sure his heart would jump out of his chest or maybe stop beating altogether, no matter how many Ninos came to help him out.

Sweet miraculous, what was _Alya's_ problem with him now?

"Babe, let the dude breathe, okay?" he heard his best friend mutter as he came close to them and put his hand on one of his girlfriend's. "He's on the verge of a heart attack, you keep him locked like that and he'll collapse right into your arms. Or right under your feet, perhaps, since judging by your expression, I doubt you'd like to actually catch him."

"You bet I wouldn't," Alya drawled, pushing his hand away and then grasping the rail tightly again. "Not until I know for sure that he's got nothing to do with this. _Or_ until he spills the beans and admit that he _does_ as I believe it's more probable, and then proves that he can fix it."

She shifted her eyes back to Adrien. "And I don't mean a simple 'I'm sorry', Agreste."

Again, before Adrien could as much as open his mouth, he was cut off by Nino coming to his defence.

"She told you it's not his fault," the latter said with a weary sigh. "I think you should at least consider Marinette's opinion on the subject before you avenge her and hurt someone who's not even the main suspect of the crime, and much against Marinette's will."

"Well, you can believe that crap if you wish, but I'm not buying it," Alya retorted. "It's obvious she was hiding something, given the way she was and since she _did_ mention that the heartless idiot who'd made her so was in fact 'her best friend', the chance that it _had_ to do with the sunshine boy here is more than fat. Even if Marinette claims otherwise."

"Well, that's a nice way of viewing evidence," Adrien managed to break in at last, feeling the anger rise in him once more; he wasn't sure if it was Alya or Marinette (again) he was vexed with, but that he would determine later. "I suppose it doesn't matter what _I_ have got to say about all this, either?"

Alya's eyes narrowed in concentration. "So you do know what I'm talking about."

"I have no idea," he corrected her. "All I know is that you're furious with me for some reason and that it is connected to Marinette and myself in some way, but at the same time, you're clearly not interested in what either of us has to say about the subject. So if you were so kind as to at least tell me what the heck it's all about, that would be wildly appreciated."

He saw the look of astonishment reflect on the countenances of both oh his friends and realised that it was probably the first time when he had ever spoken to them as harshly - and as coldly – as he'd done just now.

Somehow, the sight made him swell with satisfaction.

_Guess it's really not Marinette I'm angry with, after all._

"So?" he picked up, seeing that he was not going to receive an answer without another push on his part. "Are you going to explain why you've assaulted me like that or will we just stay like this until Miss Bustier drags us back to class?"

With an angry huff, Alya surrendered to his wish and let go of the rail, before stepping back. As if sensing the potential danger, Nino wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nodded at Adrien reassuringly.

The other boy smiled and returned the nod, relieved. It was good to know that _someone_ was on his side in all this, whatever it actually was.

Even though he certainly did have an idea as to what might be the issue here.

He simply couldn't let them know that he did.

"Thank you," he said calmly, even though he knew it was nothing but a sham; if he hadn't been relaxed on that rooftop he could hardly be expected to feel serene now? "Now, would you _please_ tell me what's going on in here? Why is Nino talking about 'avenging Marinette' and how is it the reason for you to be angry with me? And first and foremost: where _is_ Marinette?"

Again, he had to wait for their answer, unless he was to count Alya's annoyed yet somehow resigned sigh and Nino's tightened jaw as one. All of the sudden he thought that the matter might be a whole lot more serious, despite the rather childish display he'd just been treated with.

If the last night's event had taken such a great toll on him...

...could Marinette be as affected by it as well?

_No, definitely not as much_ , he tried to convince himself quietly. _Of course she would take some of it too heart, she's not some kind of an unfeeling mutant; she's the opposite of that. Still, our argument can hardly compare to all the things I've had to face and accept since we parted, so surely, it can't be_ _ **that**_ _bad._

Right?

"She's not at school," he was snatched from his meditation when Alya finally decided to share her information with him. "She came in the morning and pretended to be alright, except we all saw that she wasn't. So Miss Bustier sent her back home."

"Just like that?" Adrien asked instantly. "I mean... Your reaction from earlier suggests there was much more to it. Like you two have actually had a chance to talk."

"We did," Alya confirmed. "Or more like, I tried to talk to her while she kept dodging it, feigning good spirits and refusing to answer my questions."

"Have you attacked her in the same way you did me just now? Cause I think that might explain her reluctance."

Alya's glare became murderous again. "Of course I didn't, stupid. I was as discreet as possible and only asked about most basic things. Like you know, why did she had those dark bags under her eyes or why her hands were trembling all the time. Stuff like that."

"Look, dude, I know my girl can be pushy sometimes," Nino supplied readily. "But it was not the case this time. Those inquiries were what we would have asked her on any other day – the difference was in how Marinette responded to them."

Alya let out another sigh, one that was much less warlike this time. "When I asked her, I fully expected her to shrug and then complain about another all-nighter she'd pulled off because of a new idea for a design. Or maybe to say that she'd fallen asleep over homework, or a book, or maybe had just lost herself in daydreams for too long last evening and gone to bed late as a result. Normal Marinette stuff. Instead, I got clenched fists and teary eyes and that was long before she actually broke down."

_Now_ Adrien's heart seemed to stop for real.

"Broke... down?"

"You really don't know anything, do you?" Alya's gaze was full of genuine surprise now. She shook her head adamantly. "Okay, so maybe I _have_ jumped to conclusions too fast. The thing is, I'm really worried about her and since she wouldn't speak openly, I was left wondering. And you _are_ one of her closest friends so if you _had_ hurt her... She would've been devastated by it. Just like she was today."

"But why?" Adrien asked again, desperately. "And how can you know all that if she left as soon as you said she did? She's always late for class, so you couldn't have talked much before -"

"She didn't leave at once," Nino explained. "She got to school a few minutes before eight and hardly spoke to anyone. We noticed she wasn't fully herself, but as Al said, we blamed it on the lack of sleep, because we all know it happens to her a lot. That is, until Alya _did_ ask her and Marinette began to avoid the questions she'd asked."

Alya nodded in confirmation. "It went on for three long hours, both in class and in between... and then on the third break she lost it. No sign, no warning. She just crumbled down, turned into a crying, suffocating mess. It was horrible."

"Yeah. it was."

For the umpteenth time in the last fourteen hours Adrien felt an infinite, mind-boggling, absolutely _devastating_ terror come over him. The idea of Marinette being so unwell that it could be referred to as _crumbling down_ and a _suffocating mess_ would have been enough to make his inside twist on its own, without the extra confirmation in the looks Alya and Nino wore while telling him about it. Those two things mixed and additionally supported by the memory of Alya's most recent attack and rage...

Good Heaven, he needed some answers.

And _now_.

"Guys, I need details," he forced his mouth to say even though the rest of his body seemed inches away from falling apart in the same way that Marinette's had. "Tell me what it was. How she looked, what she said. _Especially_ what she said."

Alya and Nino exchanged looks and for a second, Adrien was sure that they would decide he was not worthy of being entrusted with the knowledge he so craved. He couldn't blame them if they had – yet at the same time, he begged God that they would be generous this time.

He _had_ to know now.

"Alright, so basically, she'd been gloomy from the start, but we've already told you that," Alya began after a while and Adrien was ready to kiss her in thanks. "Again, it appeared to be a simple exhaustion and that's what we took it for. Then Marinette got all weird about it though, yada yada yada... and then I decided to confront her. Probably not the best of my moves but it still seemed like a better idea than letting her go through that whole ordeal alone, whatever it was.

"So I dragged her to the bathroom and made sure no one was there to overhear us. I asked some more questions, Marinette dodged each and every one of them. She kept doing that... until I asked her if it had anything to do with _you_.

"That's why I was so sure it was you who'd hurt her," she picked up after a pause, during which Adrien was certain he would die of guilt and shame before Alya might decide to speak again. "As soon as I pronounced your name she burst into tears. She was on her knees a moment later, trying desperately to calm down again but failing completely... And then all of a sudden she began to tell me how it was not your fault at all."

"She _did_?" Adrien whispered, his own eyes beginning to sting. He blinked rapidly, hoping his friends had not noticed the change in him, although at the same time he was beginning to realise that he hardly cared if they had. "I mean, it's good to know I haven't done something unintentionally..."

Gosh, what an idiot he was. What a perfect, absolute moron.

What a damn _jerk_.

Of _course_ it was him who'd done it, on both sides of the mask.

As if to confirm his thesis, Alya added, "She said it was another friend of hers, someone we don't know but who, apparently, means a great deal to her. She said they'd argued on the previous eve and that it'd been rougher than ever before, and that it had kept her awake for half of the night even though she'd managed to fall asleep without much trouble at first. She mentioned something about it being her fault but then contradicted herself and cried that it was not her fault at all, but that it was still so hard and confusing and that it hurt so much to have _him_ think badly of her...

"I don't know, Adrien," she concluded with yet another sigh. "Quite frankly, I got lost after about fifteen seconds into her monologue. But I do know this: whoever that scoundrel is, he'd hurt my best friend in a way no one ever had before. And I can't just forgive that."

Adrien could swear his legs were turning to jelly right there and then.

"Was it really that bad?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above whisper. "Could it really have been the worst you've seen? I don't want to deem it unimportant or say that you're hyperbolising, only that -"

"Adrien," Nino cut off unexpectedly. "Remember when Marinette broke up with Luka last year and we found her crying in the park?"

Adrien's face turned pale as a sheet.

"I do," he stammered, appalled. "Of course I do."

"It was _worse._ And I only saw her _after_ she'd left the bathroom."

All of the sudden, his mind was made up. He wasn't sure why or how, except that the image of Marinette's ugly crying – the image he remembered so well from all those months ago, now intensified tenfold by Nino's words and his own shattering feeling of guilt – had a major role in deciding that. That image itself would have been enough to make him crack; now it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

Coward or not, ready or not, he could no longer stay and pretend that things would somehow fix themselves on their own. There was no miraculous cure – except for the work he might still do.

No matter how horribly impossible the task still seemed in his eyes.

"Bro? You're alright?"

"I'm sorry guys," he replied automatically, shifting his gaze back to the pair before him. "I can't stay. If things really are as bad as you say they are... I just need to talk to Marinette and as soon as I can. She probably won't let me in; she's been through hell and back and unwanted company is probably the last thing she needs. But... but I believe I may be of some help if she _does_."

Alya raised an eyebrow at him, mistrust painted all over her face. "No offence Agreste, but why should _you_ be the one able to help her out now?"

"Because I know the bastard who'd hurt her."


	9. Run Away, Run Towards

"I think your dad is calling me from the bakery," Sabine Cheng muttered with a small smile and stroked her daughter's hair affectionately. Then she turned away and shouted a short: _"I'll be down in a minute!"_ before she looked back at the distressed girl before her and shook her head with compassion, not at all happy with the state said girl was currently in – regardless of how amusing her husband's calls seemed.

"I'm afraid I'll have to go and check on him before he alerts half of Paris with his cries," she said to Marinette, with the same warmth and sympathy that had rang in it from the start. "Let me know if you need anything, alright? I've got my phone with me, so just call or text and I'll be back in no time."

"It's a headache, Maman, not the plague," Marinette contradicted her with a roll of her eyes and a weak grin of her own. "I'm sure it will go away in no time, if only I can lie down for a while... And I know how much work you and dad have. Just go; I'll be fine."

Sabine raised an eyebrow at her and eyed her sceptically. "And you're absolutely sure that you don't want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what? My headache?" Marinette replied, taken aback.

"About the reasons behind it."

"What – what reasons?"

"Well, that's what I'd like to know!" Sabine exclaimed good-heartedly as she stood up from the chaise. "You've only come back because Miss Bustier sent you away from school, and she wouldn't have done it if it was a mere migraine. That... and the fact that your eyes are still red."

At that, Marinette face turned pale, as if all blood had retreated from her cheeks – only to rush back in doubled amount, making her flush fiercely as she turned away, abashed. Sabine did her best to hold back the chuckle that threatened to escape her and – mostly – succeeded... Even though it was due to the daughter's inattentiveness rather than her mother's skill.

"There, there," she muttered with a twinkle in her eye, though she made sure not to let her amusement show in her tone. "I'm your mother, it would be strange if I hadn't noticed, don't you think?"

Marinette shrugged. "I don't know about other mothers. It sure would've been alarming if _you_ hadn't, though. I don't know what I was thinking, hoping that you wouldn't."

"Suppose you were afraid of me questioning you?"

"What? No, Maman, I don't -" she began and trailed off again.

She groaned, annoyed with herself, and then sighed, resigned.

"I'm not trying to keep secrets from you," she picked up after a short pause. "It's just... It's a little complicated. And I don't think bringing more people into this mess would do any good. Even if that new person is _you_."

"And I respect that. Just promise me that you will ask for help when you realise you do need some – even if it's with the things seemingly unrelated to the actual subjects. You know, sometimes..."

"...all it takes is a mug of hot chocolate and a macaron in your hand. Yeah, I know," Marinette rolled her eyes again and shook her head, although this time, the gesture was a cheerful one. She scooted closer and threw her arms around her mother's waist. "Thanks for being here."

"Whenever you need me," Sabine answered softly, before ruffling her daughter's hair. Then she stood up and, mindful of the calls that still came from downstairs, she left the room without further delay.

Marinette followed her with her eyes; and then threw herself flat on the chaise as soon as she was alone.

She wanted to scream.

"Do you really think you should hide this from your mum?" she heard Tikki ask a moment later but chose to pretend that she hadn't. "She seemed really concerned for you, you know. And she's wise, you could use her guidance in this... situation."

"I'm sick of guidance," Marinette muttered angrily, though it was clear that the sudden aggression was nothing but a mean to hide her real feelings. Given how her voice trembled when she said that, her endeavours still weren't enough to call them successful. "The very word takes me back to Master Fu and all the rules that he'd made – rules that I now need to follow without questions because he's not here to explain anything anymore. I understand _most_ of them. But it still makes me mad just to think of how much he's left unsaid."

Tikki shook her tiny head. "And what does Master Fu have to do with any of this?"

"Everything."

"How so?"

"He chose me to be Ladybug, didn't he? He chose Cat Noir, too."

"So you're gonna blame him for the quarrels between the two of you?"

"I'm not blaming him for that!" Marinette exploded at last, sitting up and throwing away the pillow she'd automatically hugged before. Once again, her eyes welled up with tears and she wiped them vexedly. "But I'm _tired_. So very, very tired. Ever since Miracle Queen, nothing in my life has gone according to plan, and I don't only mean giving up on Adrien last year. I _did_ give up, and I did my best to move on as well; and yet, even that wasn't enough. I cheered him and Kagami on – she broke up with him after less than three months. I tried to make things work for Luka and then _I_ was the one who broke up with _him_ , because even after all those months, I still couldn't fully return his feelings. Because my stupid heart just wouldn't let me.

"So yes, my love life is a disaster, but we both know it's not the only issue. This entire Guardian thing, it's a lot to deal with in normal circumstances. Only of course, it was anything but normal for me! Because I couldn't have become a Guardian in some civil, orderly way, after actually completing my training and everything it entailed – not to mention, reaching majority, at least. No! Apparently, people like me become Guardians at the age of _fourteen_ , long before they've even covered the _introduction_ to their apprenticeship and _right after losing the entire Miraculous holders team!_ "

She paused for a short while, taking her time to even her breathing and once again wipe the hot tears that were now flowing down her cheeks freely. She swallowed painfully and pulled her legs to her chest, pressing her forehead against them and embracing them tightly.

She sighed deeply before continuing quietly, "But you know, it never felt this bad before. In fact, it was _fine_ , because no matter how terrible it appeared, no matter how low I sunk at times, Cat Noir was always there for me. Not giving advice or patronising – just sitting by my side, hour after hour, listening to my grumbling regardless of how difficult his own life was at the time. He really was the best partner – the best _friend_ – I could ever have wished for."

It was Tikki's turn to sigh. "Still, when he admitted that he still was in love with you... You turned him down. You've never really told me why."

"Because I don't love him," Marinette responded reflexively, but corrected herself quickly. "No, that's not it. I do love him. But... It's not the kind of love he wants from me, is it? And I've experienced first-hand how fatal it might be to force yourself into a relationship when the parties' expectations are so very different. When... When they're not on the same page from the start."

"Isn't Cat Noir more special to you, though?"

"You mean, more special than Luka was? Perhaps. On another level. But that's all the more reason not to play with his feelings as well."

With a heavy heart, Marinette lowered her feet to the floor and lifted herself up from the chaise. She sincerely hoped that Tikki would not try and drag the conversation any longer, no matter how well the latter meant. She knew that for their usual standards, the talk was shorter than short; and yet, in the state she now was, it had felt like the longest chat in history.

Gosh, she had _never_ felt this exhausted.

She climbed up to her bed again and dived right under her duvet, heedless of the fact that it was not her pyjamas that she was wearing. She needed rest; she needed sleep.

Lord knew she hadn't get much of _that_ last night.

Just as her head had touched the pillow, she felt the familiar warm presence hover right above her ear, clearly indicating that Tikki had, indeed, followed her up here as well. Marinette did her best not to grimace; still, her prayers for silence remained unchanged.

Sadly, this time her wish was not to be granted. Not in full, anyway.

"Are you really going to sleep now?" the kwami asked gently. "Are you sure it's the better option?"

Marinette stifled a groan.

"My head is pounding Tikki, and that's a fact. Also, if you want to suggest 'talking things through' again, I'm pretty sure I've done just that. So yes, I do think that having a nap is the best alternative of all. So if you'll excuse me... I'm going to try and take one, and hope that when I wake up, this world will be a slightly better place. Or that I will have a better idea of how to work with it, anyway. I know it may seem like I’m running away from my problems, but right now, it’s the only thing I _can_ do."

"Is it, really?" Tikki asked with a weak smile.

"That, and pray that Hawmoth doesn't strike for another month."

* * *

While Marinette drifted off to sleep, slowly forgetting about the unfortunate ordeal, the boy she deemed responsible for it dashed towards her home, indifferent to his fellow passer-bys and traffic lights alike.

It almost cost him his life _twice_ and yet, he couldn't have cared less.

"What's got into you, you madman?" he heard Plagg whine underneath his shirt but made no answer, too busy manoeuvring in between people and lamp posts, and cars. "One moment you're standing there, leaning on the railings and hardly breathing at all, only to break into some barbarous sprint in the next, without as much as a word of a warning. Not to mention, the explanation you gave to your friends was more than vague, as well."

"I didn't have time for more," Adrien replied quietly, but only after he'd been forced to stop before yet another walkway. Heck, wasn't Marinette supposed live _close_ to the Dupont College? "Also, even if I did, I could hardly go into details, could I? I mean, what even are the chances of Marinette having a good friend that neither Nino nor Alya know about but _I_ do? Who on earth could that be? And if told them the truth and said it was about Cat Noir... No, I'd rather not think of what Ladybug – _Marinette_ – might do to me if I took a gamble so big as that."

In the corner of his eye, he saw the cars come to a stop next to them; he was on the road long before the light changed to green.

"Well, you could always frame that cousin of yours," Plagg commented wryly, though Adrien had no doubt that the kwami was smirking impishly as he did. "You and Marinette are the only ones in your class that exchanged more than a greeting with him, so you'd have that part covered. Also, it would have been a perfect little payback to what he pulled off when he visited last year."

"I'm not using Felix as a shield, no matter how much he deserves that," came Adrien's solemn answer. "Also, I'm pretty sure that Marinette hates his guts and only plays nice for everybody's sake. And frankly, I can't really blame her."

"You mean, she hates his guts more than she hates _yours_?"

Taken aback, Adrien stumbled in his step that had, in fact, turned into a run once more a good while ago. He did his best to regain his balance immediately and without falling off the rhythm, and almost succeeded; still, adjusting the tempo of his run was on thing, while restoring the usual pace of heart was a completely different matter.

He could swear it stopped, and restarted, speeding up and skipping beats in no particular order.

"I don't know that yet," he panted in response, the physical exhaustion finally seeming to get to him. "Unlike Felix, I haven't messed with her on purpose, which means that, being the considerate, empathic person that she is, she may actually be willing to forgive me in time. I sure hope that she will."

"And you have no doubts about this?"

Adrien let out a small, mirthless chuckle.

"I have _every_ doubt about it, Plagg," he said. "But I have to believe that it's not over yet. That whatever we broke last night may still be fixed with some effort and good will on our part. Maybe I'm being naive, but it's the only way for me not to go crazy, right here and now."

Plagg snickered. "As if your running to her now wasn't your craziest idea so far."

Again, Adrien decided to postpone his response for when he was forced to bring himself to a halt, for one reason or other. It wasn't like he was dodging his friend's questions again – after their rooftop conversation that forenoon, he knew he would be a fool trying to conceal anything and dumber still if he'd attempted to stir their conversation away from the subject at hand.

Mostly because right now, it was the only topic he could think of, anyway.

Besides...

In his calling Adrien's ideas crazy, Plagg definitely had a point.

The Dupain-Cheng bakery loomed on the horizon at last and, strangely boosted by the sight, Adrien picked up his pace once more, determined to cross that final distance before his yellow-bellied brain decided to turn him back and flee the scene in fright. So he sprinted, deaf to the voices in his head that warned him about the possible outcome of his arrival, deaf to the ostensibly reasonable whispers of his subconsciousness that told him to at least even his breathing before he reached the threshold.

He ran, ran, _ran_.

He reached the bakery's door, put his hand on the doorknob...

...and then he froze.

"It's the right thing to do, isn't it?" he asked quietly, looking down at Plagg. "I won't make it _worse_ by coming here?"

"Well, you won't know until you try," the kwami replied evenly, almost serenely. "But no, I don't think you will compound the situation and _not_ because it's pretty terrible as it is. After all, you're coming here as Adrien, not Cat. That's definitely an advantage this time. Or any other, judging by how serious Marinette's crush turned out to be, huh?"

"Adrien. Right, I'm _Adrien_ ," the boy repeated, indifferent to the final jab as if he truly hadn't heard it. "I mean, I _am_ Cat Noir, too, but Marinette doesn't know that. And I _don't_ have to share it with her today. I'm here to help _her_ and the best way to do that is to listen to her and learn how she really feels without adding to her misery with an untimely identity reveal. I can do this."

He tightened his grasp at the knob and turned it, opening the door without further hesitation. Just like he had during his crazy run, he knew that he needed to do it before his fears took the better of him.

With a deep breath and a polite smile summoned to his face, he walked in and closed the door firmly behind him.

"Good morning, Mrs Cheng. Is Marinette home?"


End file.
